The day that Neal didn't run
by KHJ
Summary: My version of what happens after the season 5 finale. Neal got kidnapped, will Peter think he ran? What happens to Mozzie? There'll be whump and hurt/comfort of course, and I'm actually not quite sure yet where this will take me. I'm rating it T.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first multiple-chapter story... Don't know where it'll bring me for sure, but I partly know, and the rest will probably depend on your reviews and comments. Enjoy!**

**Warnings: A bit of language...**

**UPDATE: A reader advised me to separate dialogue from the rest, so that's what I've done. Hope it makes it easier to read.**

* * *

Neal felt himself being forced into a van. He couldn't really see much because of the black hood over his head and he fell rather hard on his stomach onto the floor. He scrambled to get up, but before he managed to do much he felt a knee in his back pressing him down, the heavy weight of the guy squeezing the air out of him. The other guy trapped his right leg while bending the left one backwards. Neal knew they were looking for the anklet. They knew about him, about his agreement with the FBI.

A loud buzzing reverberated through the van, and they held his leg tight. Neal fought. He knew the anklet couldn't be cut by a simple pair of scissors and the buzzing didn't bode well for his ankle.  
_  
"Quit struggling"_, a gruff voice said.

Neal didn't, he wanted out, away, and wouldn't give up without a fight.  
_  
"You want us to cut your entire fucking foot off?"_, one of the men said.

Neal stilled. Okay, he'd rather risk a minor cut from whatever tool they were gonna use than risking the entire foot – that would definitely cause problems for his future escaping possibilities. The buzzing became louder as soon as the tool hit the anklet, but it only took a moment until it went through. A brief connection with the skin, Neal hissed, but the pain was bearable and pretty much felt more like a minor cut when your finger got in the way of a knife cutting vegetables. Neal heard the sound of the alarm and felt kind of comforted by knowing that Peter would be alerted in just a few seconds. Something was wrapped around his ankle, and then his legs were released.

Neal started struggling again when he noticed the one guy leaving him. It was just for a moment, though, apparently to hand over the anklet to a third guy Neal hadn't been aware of.  
_  
"Get rid of this and get going!"_, the gruff voice said. _"On it!"_.

The words came from the front of the car, the driver probably, Neal thought. The car started moving in the same moment Neal felt both guys on him again. The one pressing him down had definitely been fighting hard to keep Neal from getting out of his grip. He was short of breath when he asked:  
_  
"How far did the other one get?"_.

The other one? Mozzie? Neal did NOT like the sound of that.  
_  
"Not far, I see him now!"_, the driver said.

Even though Neal fought hard it didn't take long for the two men to secure him tightly with zip ties on hands and feet and connecting them behind his back. Neal was well and truly stuck!

The van slowed down, but didn't stop completely, before the side door was opened, and Neal heard the two men jump out. He heard a brief sound of surprise, followed by: _"What the..."_ and then a bit of struggling and heavy breathing. Though he couldn't see a thing, Neal knew... He just knew!  
_  
"Mozz!"_, he yelled. _"Don't you dare hurt him!"_, but it was to no avail, because Neal both felt and heard the sound of a person being dumped next to him.

Neal squirmed, tried desperately to get the hood off. To be able to see him, to make sure Mozzie was alright.  
_  
"Tie him up!"_, one of the guys said, _"And you"_ - he grabbed Neal's hair through the hood - _"shut up and stop moving around. We didn't hurt him."_, he chuckled. _"Not that much, anyway, he just needs to sleep it off. You know... We wouldn't even take him if it wasn't because of you. We don't really need him. But we know you wouldn't run without him!"_

He let go of Neal's hair, got up and apparently found a place to sit close by. Neal's heart sank. He knew that Peter, the FBI, the Marshalls, everyone... everyone would think that he cut the anklet himself. That he cut it and ran. He and Mozz.  
_  
"Don't do anything crazy, Neal!"_, Peter's words rang in Neal's head.

_"Peter, I didn't"_, Neal thought. _"Please, believe that I didn't run!".  
_  
Who were these guys? What did they want?  
_  
"I'm about to become the last person on Earth who knows where you are!"  
_  
Maybe in this moment, the man in the fancy boots was right about this, but Neal was going to prove him wrong. Whatever he set his mind to, he could do, and lying there in the back of the van, Neal set his mind to getting out of this as soon as possible. He could do this! He and Mozzie had been in trouble before, but they were smart – and slippery, as Hagen had said it – and as soon as the chance presented itself, they would get out of this mess.

The van was moving at a faster speed now, and Neal concentrated on the way it moved while counting the seconds that soon became minutes. Then his phone rang! His god damn phone was ringing in his pant pocket. These guys weren't professional enough to get rid of his phone, yet they knew about both the anklet and his friend- and partnership with Mozzie?

**TBC... hopefully very soon :-)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, second part came to me fast... I won't promise the following chapters coming with quite the same speed. Warnings as before!**

**UPDATE: A reader advised me to separate dialogue from the rest, so that's what I've done. Hope it makes it easier to read.**

* * *

Peter was just walking around the living room, restless, and dreading tomorrow, when the moving van would be picking up a part of his and Elizabeth's life together. El would go to Washington and they had decided that at first she would live there during weekdays and come back to New York on weekends. He felt that he was ripping away a part of his heart, yet he knew deep down inside that he couldn't leave Neal here, alone, either. Not now. He would see this through. After all, he made the agreement with Neal back then, not Jones, not Diana, not the bureau in general – no, he did... Peter Burke, who always made a show of sticking to his word. He had promised Neal this deal, so he would stay as long as it was needed.

Elizabeth was still packing her suitcases on the 2nd floor, when Peter's phone went off. Not the usual ring tone, but the alarm... The anklet alarm! He grabbed his phone, looked at the display like his eyes were betraying him. No, Neal, no! You didn't do this. Peter dialed the number for the Marshall's office, hoping that this was a mistake. It was not! The office confirmed that the alarm of Neal's tracking anklet went off just a few minutes ago. Not the alarm marking that he stepped out of his radius, no the GPS broke off completely – somebody cut it, Neal must have cut it! Peter disconnected the phone call and was about to call Jones and Diana when Elizabeth came down the stairs.

"_Honey, what's wrong? You look like you just found out Neal ran off or something!"_, she said.

_"He did, hon, he did! I told him not to do anything crazy just a few hours ago"_. Peter cursed: _"Dammit, Neal!"_

Elizabeth grabbed her husband around the waist, pulled him close. Peter was too tense to really notice.  
_  
"Are you sure, he ran, Peter? Would he do something like this now?"_. She kissed him.

Peter sighed. _"I don't know, El, but it looks like it. I have to go to the office. I'll find out... But if he ran...? El... If they find him, he's going back to prison for a very long time."_

Elizabeth looked at her husband. She knew that Neal was disappointed about not getting his sentence dropped, but taking off this soon after knowing? Either he would've have had it planned a long time ago, or something else happened. She didn't voice her thoughts, though. Instead she kissed Peter again and said:

_"Go, hon – go find out. Maybe it was all a mistake!"_

* * *

On his way to the office, Peter called Diana and Jones and they both promised to join him right away. Both of them were confused about this suddenly happening, until Peter told them about how the higher-ups had declined his request on Neal's behalf. Diana felt sorry for Neal, but she also expressed her anger about him running off and leaving them all behind like nothing had ever happened. Jones turned into his always professional persona and promised Peter that they'd find Neal soon.

_"Yeah, right... Look, I'll see you at the office, Jones!"_, Peter said, but in his mind he wasn't so sure about finding Neal.

Was he even sure he WANTED to find Neal? Neal deserved to be free, right? But was this the way to do it? It wasn't right to keep him tethered for years to come after all he had done, but then again he probably should serve out his time. Peter's thoughts were racing. He had let Neal run once, maybe he could do it again? Peter shook his head, cursed at the traffic and knew for sure that neither the FBI nor the Marshalls would ever let Neal run off. They'd keep looking for him, until they caught him – and then they'd lock him up for ages, maybe even for good. Neal didn't deserve that. He was a good man, with a good heart, an intelligent mind. Sometimes he just messed up, made mistakes. Everyone made mistakes sometimes. After all they were just humans. Peter had made mistakes, too. He knew that! He had called Neal a criminal, but Neal was so much more than that. Peter had seen it clearly these last few days. He had seen Neal's heart break when he found out his "supposed" girlfriend was nothing but a con, a murderer, who had played him all the way. He head seen Neal worry for Mozzie, seen his happy smile and relaxed posture when he found out that Mozzie had pulled through. He had seen Neal's targeted effort to bring down Rachel Turner, the woman with whom he had fell in love in such a way that Neal had compared it to the relationship between Peter and El.

When Peter pulled into a parking space, he could hardly remember the drive from home to the office, but he now knew that whatever the truth was about the anklet being cut, he would have to figure it out fast and then maybe he could save Neal from going back to prison. He would try. He would do this for Neal. But first he would have to find him!

Peter got out of his car, took out his phone and called Neal. If this was all just a mistake, Neal would pick up, and all problems would be solved – at least for now. Peter listened intently to the ringing, and Peter felt kind of comforted by the thought that at least Neal hadn't turned it off. This was a good sign, right?  
_  
"Come on, Neal, pick up"_, he whispered to himself when he walked towards the elevators.

* * *

The men in the van didn't act upon the ringing as fast as Neal would've suspected, but the one closest to him suddenly mumbled something Neal couldn't decipher. Then he felt himself being patted down and the phone pulled from his pocket.

_"What the fuck, you stupid moron. You didn't take his phone?"_, the man said.

Neal mentally named him "Gruffy", because of his ever so gruff voice.  
_  
"I thought you did it, man!"_, the other one answered and added, _"Just get rid of right away!"_.

Neal heard the phone being dropped to the floor of the van and then somebody stomped on it, no doubt about it splintering into several pieces. Neal hoped. He hoped that the one calling was Peter. Peter was already looking for him, wasn't he?

Next to him, Neal felt a bit of stirring, then some groaning. Mozzie! Neal tried to get a bit closer and quietly called out his friend's name. No reaction. He tried again a little louder, nudging him as much as it was possible in his present situation. Mozzie groaned again at the same time as Gruffy told them to shut up. Neal didn't bother, he needed to know that Mozzie was awake and okay.  
_  
"Mozz, are you okay?"_, he said completely ignoring the order about keeping quiet.

_"I said: Shut up!"_, Gruffy repeated and Neal felt a light kick at his arm like Gruffy wanted to catch his attention.

Neal didn't budge and said: _"Just need to know, he's okay. Mozz? Mozzie, are you okay?"._

That earned Neal quite a kick in his side, and as he felt one of the guys crouching down next to him his head was pressed into the floor of the van.  
_  
"What's up with you not following simple orders?"_, Gruffy hissed. _"I thought, boss said you were smart. Not likely! Unless you want me to beat the crap out of you even before we reach our destination, you shut up NOW!"  
_  
Neal kept quiet and Gruffly released his grip. For a brief moment Neal pondered how much one could squeeze the human skull until it cracked. He didn't want to find out.

Neal's mind was dragged towards Mozzie again when he felt his friend stirring a little more. He listened intently to find out if Mozzie was breathing all right or if he could convert other sounds into some kind of consolidation that Mozzie was okay. Then he heard a faint clicking sound. The sound of a tongue clicking in a certain pattern. Thank you, Mozz! Neal smiled to himself thankful of the creative mind of his slightly paranoid friend. That wouldn't be a sound the men would easily hear and recognize as being anything but noise from the moving van.

* * *

Peter was waiting for Neal to pick up and for a second it sounded like he did. Then a loud bump, and the connection was cut. Peter looked at his phone. That was weird! He swore to himself that it sounded like someone picked up and then disconnected. Besides... if it hadn't been picked up it would usually just go to Neal's voice mail.

Peter reached the office on the 21st floor and was greeted by Jones who had already arrived. Diana wasn't in yet, but he hadn't expected that either since she needed to find someone to babysit Theo first. He told Jones to track Neal's phone, find out where it had last connected to a cell tower. Jones started to explain that Neal would've turned off his phone and whatever tracing they could find wouldn't help much.

_"I just called him, Jones"_, Peter interrupted. _"It wasn't turned off."_

"Why didn't he turn it off, what did he say?", Jones asked looking a tad confused.

Peter explained that he hadn't actually gotten a hold of Neal, but the phone had been ringing until the connection was – apparently abruptly – cut.

_"I'll get right on it"_, Jones said, and handing Peter a folder, he added: _"Here's the last known location of the anklet."_

Skimming through the information in the folder, Peter first thought of how many ways you could get away from the city fast from that position without being caught. Plenty of possibilities, but none of them struck him as being the most obvious. Then something else struck him: Why would Neal cut his anklet in a park area and not in his home?

* * *

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, part 3 - no warnings this time, just building up. Hope you'll enjoy reading and please leave a review. If you have suggestions or any advice on improvements, don't hold back!**

* * *

After seriously considering to invite Missing Persons into the meeting, Peter decided against it – he didn't want to involve that department just yet – and called his most trusted people into the conference room.

"_Listen up, people. I need you to focus on this. We need to find out if Neal cut his anklet"_, Peter said.

"_Uhm, excuse me, boss_", Diana interrupted. _"Don't you mean, WHY Neal cut his anklet?"_

"_No, Diana. I don't... I don't have any proof yet, but … There's just something about this that doesn't sit right with me"_. Peter silently sighed and continued: _"Jones! Pull all data from surveillance cameras around the park and surrounding areas! Then gather a team, head to Neal's and go through his entire apartment."_ He looked straight at Diana: _"You find Mozzie! If he's around, we know for sure that Neal didn't run."_ Peter looked around the room. _"I also need someone to talk to Neal's landlady, June Ellington, and of course send ERTs to the park right away."_

The agents in the room nodded, confirming their boss' orders and went to work on the various tasks. Peter pulled out his phone and called Elizabeth:

"_Hi hon! I was hoping you could do me a favor and get in touch with Mozzie? You can do that, right?"_, Peter asked his wife.

"_Sure, honey... I'll see what I can do, but Peter... If Neal ran on his own terms, Mozzie will be gone, too. Neal would never leave him behind – even in his most frustrated and impulsive state of mind"_, Elizabeth said, hesitating a bit.

Peter thought about her words for a second. _"I know, El, which is why I kind of hope that we'll get in contact with Mozzie soon, so please just..."_

Elizabeth interrupted her husband: _"But that'll mean that Neal's in trouble!?"_

"_Neal's in trouble, no matter what, hon"_, Peter sighed. _"I just hope it won't be serious..."_

* * *

The van was slowing down after what seemed like hours of driving, but most likely was not. Neal had lost count somewhere after approximately 30 minutes. Concentrating on counting seconds and minutes was hard when you also had to make sure your friend was okay while tolerating the rising tension in all muscles from being in a very unhealthy position for so long. His fingers felt numb, his shoulders were aching, his legs were protesting and really needed to be stretched. And oh, how he wished for a fresh breath of air! The van was getting hot, the air dense, and the hood did definitely not make it better. He did have a small gap at the bottom of the hood, though, but all that gave him was a smell of dirt and wet wood.

Finally the van came to a stop. The door opened, and it sounded like both men got out, but to Neal's disappointment they didn't let the door stay open. He held his breath for a moment listening to the mumbling voices outside, but he couldn't make out any of what was being said. However, he was quite sure they were now alone in the van. Apparently, so was Mozzie.

"_What happened, Neal? Who are these guys?"_, Mozzie inquired.

"_I don't know, Mozz. I've been followed the last couple of days..."_, Neal started, but Mozzie broke him off.  
_  
"You've been what? Why didn't you say anything?"_

Neal wished he had: _"I wanted to be sure first, but it's not important now. What I do know is that they must be at least 4 guys. The two who were in here, the driver, and one more."_

"_How do you know?"_, Mozzie asked quickly.

"_I spoke to him. I confronted him in the park right after you left. But I don't know him, he hardly said anything, before … Well, it happened so fast."_

They spoke softly while Neal recounted what had happened. Mozzie confirmed that he had been knocked out, but he was okay now, none of them could slip their ties and they soon agreed that these people were at least semi-professional.

Suddenly they heard the sound of another car parking outside and more people talking. They were still not loud enough for Neal and Mozzie to really hear much, but soon the door of the van was opened.

"_And the goods are in a decent condition?"_, someone said.

Neal recognized the voice of the man from the park.

"_Maybe a few bruises, but nothing to talk about"_, one of the men from the van answered.

"_Good! We need to get moving right away"_, the man from the park said.

Neal and Mozzie felt the van tip a bit to the side when the men entered, and as bound cattle they were quickly dragged out, carried a short way and thrown onto the floor of something Neal guessed was just another van.

Neal felt a hand grab his left ankle. The man from the park was apparently inspecting the work done with the anklet coming off. He sounded slightly amused when he said:

"_I see you managed to hold still … almost anyway, when they cut it off, Neal. Good boy!"_, he patted Neal's lower leg, like he was praising a dog for following instructions.

Neal wanted to kick the man and tell him to get his hands off of him, but decided to just keep quiet. He would pick his fights wisely. The more compliant he appeared, the more their captors would be likely to lessen security.

The man jumped out the van, talked briefly to the others and apparently they settled payment right then and there. Neal heard the other van take off, before the man from the park addressed them:

"_Now, behave you two, or I have ways to keep you quiet! We only have a short drive to our destination."_

He shut the door and a moment later the van was moving. A few minutes went by and then both Neal and Mozzie felt the road change.

"_Dirt road"_, Mozzie said.

Neal added: _"I think we're far out of the city by now. No easy way to get away or get help – otherwise he wouldn't be by himself"_.

Mozzie agreed: _"Well, then it's two against one! Guess we just have to show him our capabilities."_

"_Guess so"_, Neal said with a smile.

"_We might need to find a way out of these ties first, though"_, Mozzie admitted. Then he exclaimed: _"HA! Got ya."_

"_What?"_, Neal asked a bit surprised.

"_The hood, Neal! Okay, we're definitely in a van – an old one of it's kind – and oh?!"_, Mozzie stopped himself. _"Uhm, are you alright? That does NOT look like a comfortable position."_

"_Oh really, Mozz? I seem to find it very relaxing... Wait... They didn't tie you up like this?"_, Neal said while trying to gesticulate with his hands and feet. _"Help me get the hood off, will ya?"_

Mozzie scrambled a bit, came closer to Neal and by joint efforts they got off Neal's hood as well. Neal drew in a breath of semi-fresh air and looked around the van. It was definitely old. A few crates in one end, various larger tools, a tool box, a bag... and a worrying amount of zip ties.

"_Okay, what's the plan?"_, Mozzie asked.

"_Well"_, Neal sighed. _"I really can't move much here, Mozz, so you need to find something useful to cut the ties. I see several things we can use to neutralize the guy, plenty of zip ties. What's left to do? Cut the ties, get ready, when he opens the door, we attack, tie him up and reverse the roles!"_

"_Sounds easy!"_, Mozzie pointed out.

"_It has to be"_, Neal said.

And so Mozzie rolled and snaked around the back of the van. At one point he actually managed to get into a sitting position so he could open and go through the tool box. With his hands tied behind his back the vision of what he was doing was limited, so he felt around carefully.

Meanwhile Neal had spotted a vise close by and after some shuffling, some huffing and puffing and a lot of sweating, he got himself on one side next to it and with the edge of one of the jaws, he started sawing at the ties connecting his feet and hands. Now that he had a specific goal, he didn't feel the kinks in his muscles quite as much.

Neal was almost through, and Mozzie had just found something that felt like a wire cutter tool, when the van slowed down, came to a halt and the driver got out. No, not yet! They needed more time. They weren't ready. They looked at each other frantically. Neal's zip tie broke, Mozzie got a good grip on the wire cutter, and the door of the van rolled open...

* * *

**TBC... and... Sorry to leave you hanging here, but I gotta go to bed ;-)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for the reviews, everyone. I've written back to some of you having specific comments. Here's the 4th chapter. I hope you like it.**

**WARNINGS: A bit of language... and some whump!**

* * *

Peter looked at his watch. It had been a little more than one and a half hour since he got the alarm about Neal's anklet going offline. He was browsing through the various information coming in from his agents in the field. So far without anything seriously useful.

The team in Neal's apartment hadn't yet found anything conclusive pointing in neither the direction that Neal ran nor the direction that he didn't. They were still there trying to find his "go bag". From what Peter had learned about Neal lately, he would expect Neal to hold on to such one, but Peter also feared that Neal would have more than one, so if they did find a "go bag" it wouldn't mean much. Inadvertently, Peter cursed at Neal for doing this to him, for always being so well-prepared.

A call from Jones came in. He had been talking to June, but unfortunately she couldn't help much either. She hadn't spoken to Neal since yesterday, but she was fairly sure that he had been home during the night and didn't leave the house until he went to meet Peter. Her housekeeper confirmed that she had seen Neal leave the house, carrying no bags. Nothing suspicious at all. Actually, Neal had been very happy and in a joyful spirit when June spoke to him yesterday. Peter sighed... That must have been after he told Neal that dropping the rest of his sentence would pretty much be piece of cake. Neal had left the office smiling. So opposite the Neal that had left his front porch this very morning. Hurt. Disappointed. Angry.

Peter knew that an angry Neal could be an impulsive Neal as well, and suddenly he felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck and his heart dropped. Oh, my... Could he? No, he wouldn't! A person could kill himself in many ways, and some of these might cause the anklet's alarm to go off. But Neal wasn't suicidal... was he? He had lost so much, so many people. Could this lack of freedom be the last drop?

A call coming in on his mobile interrupted Peter's thoughts. It was Diana.

"_Boss"_, she said, _"we found something... I mean... ERT found something."_

"_Something of Neal's?"_, Peter asked.

"_No"_. Diana started explaining that they had recovered a smashed phone close to the park. She knew it wasn't Neal's regular phone, but they would bring it in anyway for the technicians to look at.

They had also noticed tire marks from a car either breaking or speeding up. They were trying to find out exactly, but it could take a while. Peter thanked her and went to the bullpen to ask the agents going through surveillance footage about any progress.

The young agent was eager to show Peter that he was on to something. He pulled up a surveillance photo of Neal and Mozzie entering the park. Okay, so they now knew for sure that they had been together shortly before the anklet went off. If Mozzie had been with Neal the chances of him having run suddenly seemed much bigger, Peter thought. He asked the agent about any cars around or if they had been meeting with someone.

"_Nothing yet, Sir"_, the agent replied. _"But I'll keep looking and let you know right away if I find something"_, he quickly added not wanting to let down his boss' expectations.

Peter stepped aside, lost in his own thoughts. If Neal had really run this fast after him getting the bad news, he must have had it planned upfront. He must have been ready. He might as well just have played Peter to see if he could be able to get away legally. All the talk about having spoken with a lawyer... Maybe it was all just a con making Peter believe that Neal really did deserve his freedom. He could have just asked Peter for a shorter sentence. Maybe they could have negotiated on a satisfying deal for all parties?

"_Dammit, Neal!"_, Peter cursed quietly on his way back to his office. He kept talking to himself. _"If I find out you ran, and you had this all planned ahead, I swear that I'll hunt you down!"_

And right after that thought, his mind shifted. There had been no signs that Neal was planning anything pointing towards him running off. Peter's mind went back to the day of the commutation hearing. Neal hadn't been planning to run off that day either. Yet he did! And he did it fast. After an almost invisible nod from Peter. Maybe he hadn't planned this after all? Maybe it was just Neal and the ever supportive Mozzie thinking fast, acting on their impulses.

Maybe something happened to both of them?

Peter shook his head. His thoughts were at turmoil. He was frustrated! He needed to know. He needed to be in control of what was going on. It was far from the first time he had felt this confused and this frustrated lately. Ever since the incident with Pratt everything had been one big mess. With him, with Neal, with El and him, with Siegel, with Rebecca... or Rachel as her name really was. Okay, he needed to do something to get his mind focused on a more specific task.

At the same time an agent knocked on his door. They had tracked down the signal from Peter's call to Neal's phone to a location north of where the anklet's signal went off. Neal couldn't have moved that far from the park in such a short time without being in a car. They needed to find that car on the surveillance footage!

* * *

Mozzie cut the ties around his hands, quickly grabbed a hammer from the tool box and reached down to free his feet.

"_So you t... What the hell?"_, the man from the park stared directly at Neal who had actually managed to get into a sitting position, now his hands and feet were no longer connected by a zip tie.

He was obviously scanning the van for Mozzie who was mostly hidden in the back, but seemed a little taken aback that his prisoners weren't lying on the floor as he had expected. Mozzie threw the wire cutter in Neal's direction and got ready to attack their captor, but he was no where fast enough. Two more guys stepped up behind the man, and within seconds they were all in the van, one dragging Neal out by his feet, one pulling out a knife heading for Mozzie, and the man from the park crouching down by the bag quickly searching for something.

Neal was struggling to get out of his captor's grip while trying to maneuver the wire cutter to get his hands free. He tried kicking, tried rolling around, but in the end he fell down on the ground, hard, when he no longer had the floor of the van to support his back. His head hit the gravel, Neal winced and for a moment saw black spots in his vision. He lost the wire cutter at some point and felt his hands and his back scraping across the ground until he was unceremoniously tossed to the side like he was nothing but a bag of potatoes. Man, that guy had to be strong, but then again, Neal thought, he did look a little like The Hulk. That thought was abruptly disturbed by a hard kick to his side.

"_Ooww!"_, Neal groaned and curled onto his side as best as possible. It only resulted in the next kick hitting him in his stomach. The Hulk-wannabe crouched down, grabbed Neal's jaw, held it tight and growled:

"_STAY!"_, making his point clear by pointing his left index finger close to Neal's eyes.

Meanwhile Mozzie fought his own battle in the van. With his fairly small stature, it didn't seem like a fair battle against the far bigger guy holding the knife ready. Mozzie swung the hammer towards the man, and actually managed to hit his left forearm.

"_Come on, now"_, the guy yelled, quickly glancing at the man from the park. Looking back at Mozzie, he added: _"You're gonna regret this!"_

"_You know, I might think I already am!"_, Mozzie said. He wasn't much of a fighter. To be honest he hated fighting. He hated stupid criminals, who couldn't mind their own businesses.

"_Can't we just talk about this? Seriously? I mean.. you do realize, we're kind of colleagues, right?"._ Mozzie was babbling. He usually did that when he felt out of his comfort zone, and this? This was definitely NOT his comfort zone. He swung the hammer again, but this time he missed.

At the same time, the man from the park stood up, smiling maliciously. He had something in his hand. Too focused on the man with the knife, Mozzie realized too late that it was a taser. Within a second, two metal prongs penetrated the skin on his arm holding the hammer. He immediately dropped it, fell to his knees. The shock hadn't been really violent, but it was enough to knock him off his feet.

Needless to say, Mozzie's hands were soon once again securely tied behind his back, and he was half carried, half dragged out of the van.

* * *

Neal took notice of his surroundings. It looked almost like a small forest with huge trees all around, birds twittered, he saw insects flying around and when turning his head, he saw a very old, farm-like house behind him with broken windows and peeling walls.

Then his feet were released, Neal scrambled, but the man from the park got him to his feet, holding a tight grip on his left arm.

"_I thought I told you to behave, Neal!"_, he said.

Then he hit Neal across the side of the head. Not hard, but enough for Neal to flinch and briefly close his eyes. He quickly opened them back up and looked straight at the guy.

"_What do you want from me? Tell me who you are!"_, Neal stated, squaring his back and appearing a little taller than the guy in front of him.

"_I already told you who I am... And what I want? You'll find out soon!"_. He smirked at Neal, turned him around, and shoved him towards the house. _"Get inside! Move!"_

Neal steadied himself. He could still feel tension in his legs from being bound so long. In his entire body actually. But he still caught a glimpse of one of the other men having a tight grip on Mozz, and "The Hulk" carrying some of the stuff from the van.

He slowly walked towards the open, wooden door.

* * *

**TBC... and if you have comments on whether you want the wump-bits to stay at this level or get more aggressive (I can do that), please let me know.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry about not keeping completely up with my previous fast posting of new chapters, but I've had a few busy days. Anyway! Thanks for the reviews, the follows and the faves - please keep them coming and let me know what you think :-) Don't hold back on suggestions if you have any.**

**WARNINGS: A bit of language and whump**

* * *

Back in the office Peter received a text message from Elizabeth saying that she had tried both numbers she had for Mozzie, but the one was no longer in existence, and the other went directly to voice mail. She would keep trying, though, and she had of course left a message for Mozzie to get back to her ASAP.

Peter thought back to the phone call from the Marshall's Office that he had received a few minutes ago. They were of course asking about the status of Neal, and Peter had felt enough under pressure to admit that unfortunately Neal had disappeared and that he had no knowledge about his present whereabouts. To avoid the Marshall's Office listing Neal as a wanted fugitive, Peter had to use his best persuading skills saying that he and his team had everything under control and were looking for Neal full force. The Marshall's gave him 1 hour to either find Neal or enough evidence of this not being him on the run.

Since Diana hadn't yet been able to track down Mozzie, and El couldn't reach him by phone either, the doubt in Peter's mind came creeping. If Neal and Mozzie were on the run, they'd already had 2 hours to get away from the city. One more hour before the Marshall's joined the search would give them a head start which would of course be good for the two of them, but it could be a huge disadvantage for the authorities – and in the end it would all fall back on Peter. Anyway, it was too late to do much about that now. He would have to cross that hurdle if and when he came to it.

A few moments later, Diana and a couple of other agents came back to the office and they gathered in the conference room for updates. The technicians were looking at the phone from the location close to the park, and they had concluded that the tire marks outside the park were from a car – most likely a small truck or a van - speeding up. Otherwise, they didn't have much to go by. To see if they could connect the two locations - the park and the spot where they found the mobile - they would have to go through surveillance footage and looking for anything suspicious or any vans or trucks appearing both places.

Diana asked Peter if she could have a word with him in his office. Peter frowned a bit, wondering what that was all about. It turned out that not that many days ago Mozzie had been a great babysitter for Theo when Diana's regular babysitter quit, and she suggested that maybe she could have June leaving Mozzie a message hinting that something had come up and Diana needed someone to watch Theo. She knew that it would of course be a lie, but she also felt strongly that if Mozzie did check the phone and got the message, he would happily volunteer to look after the baby. Taking in account of course that they weren't on the run. The problem was, though, that Diana didn't have Mozzie's number herself, so they would have to go through June, maybe pretending that Diana had first asked June's help, but she unfortunately had other engagements.

They quickly agreed that it was worth a try. They didn't have many options of contacting Mozzie, so they would have to do work with whatever they could think of.

* * *

The house was rather dark inside and Neal could hardly see where he was walking while he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. A couple of times he was shoved from behind apparently not moving fast enough down a long hallway. At one point he nearly stumbled, but managed to steady himself against the wall. Neal felt annoyed.

"_Hey, man! I can't see shit here, I'm moving as fast as I can, okay?"_. He was almost ready to yell at the man behind him, but Neal managed to calm himself down enough to speak only with a slightly raised voice.

At the end of the hallway were a door on either side, both were closed. The man from the park grabbed Neal's right arm, pulled him to the side up against the wall and unlocked the door on the left side. Then he unlocked the other door, too, and pointed towards Mozzie.

"_Put him in there, make sure he won't go anywhere – and go get the rest of the stuff from the car"_, he said.

Clearly the man from the park was the one giving the orders at the moment, but Neal had a gut feeling that he wasn't the real boss. The other guy complied right away without saying a word. Neal and Mozzie exchanged a quick glance silently telling each other to be careful, but being separated was definitely a disadvantage for the two of them. They were so much better as a team. They had proved that many times before.

Neal was roughly escorted into the room on the left, and he suddenly felt almost blinded by the powerful fluorescent lights in the ceiling. He quickly looked around. It was a fairly large room with a dirty concrete floor, a chair in the middle facing away from the door, a metal table in the corner and that was about it. If it wasn't because of the dirty floor, it almost looked clinical.

Neal heard something being dumped on the floor behind him, but before he found out what, his hands were cut free and he was pushed towards the center of the room. He grabbed onto the chair to avoid tripping and he noticed it was bolted to the floor. Then he turned around and faced his captor.

"_Strip!"_, the man said.

"_What?!"_, Neal asked not being able to hide the surprise in his voice.

"_I said strip"_, the man repeated. _"Take off your clothes!"_

Neal didn't move.

"_Why?"_, he asked.

The man bent down and pulled out the taser from before.

"_Unless you want me to use force, you start stripping now!"_

Neal huffed a bit. He knew that a taser could only be fired once before needing a new air cartridge.

"_Tell me why! I doubt you brought me here to look at my abs! Or maybe you want me to be your personal trainer and you need something to look at for..."_

In two quick strides, the man was right in front of Neal, and he was cut off by an immense pain in his chest. Neal screamed, stepped backwards, but felt a new shot of pain in his right arm. He hadn't counted on the taser having a drive stun function as well. He fell to his knees, holding his right arm tight around the chest.

"_Strip! NOW!"_, the command sounded from above Neal.

He was breathing fast, and Neal felt light headed. Damn, how he hated stun guns! He tried to get himself together, but only a few seconds later he felt a new wave of pain hit his arm again. Neal desperately tried to get away, but his already aching muscles just wouldn't move right.

"_You need a hand?"_, a voice said. Neal thought it sounded like it was coming from outer space. His head was spinning.

"_Strip him! I'm tired of this bullshit!"_, the man from the park said.

With trembling fingers Neal started at the buttons of his jacket and shirt. He cast a glance upwards to lock eyes with the man, but all he could focus on was the taser in the hand of a man he slowly began to hate. It looked so incredibly big, like the size of a lawn mower. Who would be mowing a lawn inside a house, Neal thought for a moment. It didn't make sense.

The other guy who had entered the room started pulling of Neal's shoes and socks. Neal kicked at him weakly.

"_I'm doing it! Look, I'm doing it!"_, Neal argued.

Being stripped by strangers was way below his dignity. Okay, stripping on his own wasn't a lot better, but he'd rather do it himself anyway.

The man from the park shook his head and said: _"We told you more than once to behave. I seriously didn't think you were gonna be this much trouble"_.

Having an unknown fellow partly stripping him, and Neal partly stripping himself, he felt like a little child being helped out of his clothes by an impatient parent.

"_I'll do this! Get your hands off me"_, Neal yelled. He was starting to feel more in control of his body again.

"_Too late!"_, the second guy said while roughly pulling the waistband of Neal's pants out of his hands and the rest of the way off.

Neal was left on the floor wearing only his boxers. It was cold, dirty and he felt like crap, when something soft was thrown at him.

"_Put on this!"_, the man said while his partner gathered Neal's belongings and the bag and left the room.

Neal looked up and saw a light blue t-shirt in front of him. Like that was gonna make him feel much better!

"_Why?"_, he asked staring at the man from the park while getting back on his feet.

"_Why what?"_, the man replied.

"_Why all this?"_, Neal flung his arms.

"I've been warned about your... skills. Just taking precautions! Leaving you with nothing minimizes the risk of you doing anything we don't want you to. Now...", the man pointed at the t-shirt, "put it on, or my offer expires."

"_Warned by whom?"_, Neal asked a little resigned.

He picked up the t-shirt and slowly put it on. At least he'd feel a little more comfortable wearing something more than just his underwear, but he didn't like to constantly finding out that these guys knew so much about him without him knowing anything about them.

The man, still holding the taser gesticulated to Neal that he should turn around. His hands were pulled back and zip tied once again. They were tight and Neal winced a bit.  
_  
"By whom?"_, he repeated and turned back around to face the man.

_"Who do you think?"_, the guy said and walked out the door. He threw a sideways glance back at Neal who shrugged.

"_Your dad!"_, he said with a smirk, locking the door behind him. A few seconds later the lights went off and Neal was left in complete darkness.

* * *

**TBC...**


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm just gonna add here part of what I also wrote as a reply to a couple of reviews: I'm NOT gonna overdo the whump part - I want to stay as close to canon as possible, but I also don't wanna make the bad guys too stupid. If they know about Neal (and Mozzie) and their capabilitites they'd also think about how to keep them away from anything that could help them escape, hence knowing about Neal possibly having hidden lock picks here and there. The only way to make sure he wouldn't have access to those was to take away his clothes.**

**He might get some pants later... you'll just have to wait and find out ;-) NO RAPE OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT will be happening!**

* * *

Mozzie still felt a bit dizzy after the close encounter with the taser, and despite his best intentions he didn't struggle much against the man escorting him into the tiny room on the right of the hallway. It appeared to be a small storage room that was no longer in use – or had been emptied for this purpose. On one side was some shelves and in a corner stood a broom and a bucket. The only light came from a single bulb in the ceiling located right above a chair which Mozzie suspected was meant for him. He was right and soon he was tied down. His arms behind the back and his feet strapped to each leg of the chair.

"_How about leaving that knife of yours somewhere close by?"_, Mozzie said and added: _"__From one alleged criminal to another, this really isn't necessary"_.

"_How about you shut up?"_, was the only answer he got before duct tape was wrapped around his chest.

"_That's no way to treat a guest"_, Mozzie complained. _"__Do you even know who I am? I have a reputation that you should've heard of. I can do so much more for you if I can move around..."_

Mozzie didn't get to say anything else, before his mouth was covered with another piece of duct tape. Mozzie glared at the man, sending daggers with his eyes, but his attention was quickly dragged away when he heard a scream from across the hall. Neal! Mozzie struggled against his bonds, but the man in front of him just smiled and shook his head a bit. He had done his job very well indeed. Mozzie wasn't going anywhere.

The man turned around, cast a quick glance across his shoulder and said to Mozz while leaving the room:

"_Enjoy yourself! Sounds like your friend isn't..."_

Mozzie growled and if looks could kill, Mozzie felt quite certain that the man would be dropping dead on his way out the door. The door locked with a loud click, but the light stayed on so while listening to Neal's protests from the other room, Mozzie took in all the details of his temporary cell. Because that was what he intended it to be. Temporary!

The room hadn't been cleared completely, he noticed. First of all, the duct tape had been left on one of the shelves, but he also noticed a piece of paper on the floor and a hook hanging on the far end of another shelf. On the back side of the door was a little duster... hanging on a nail. At least that left him with something to work with if... no, correction, WHEN he got himself out of his bonds. Mozzie set to work!

* * *

Peter, Diana, Jones and a few of their colleagues were gathered in the conference room in the White Collar office. They were finally getting somewhere. They had a lead! The agents who had been going through the surveillance footage had spotted a truck appearing on the footage both at the park and at the location close by where they had found the crushed mobile on the ground. They were now tracking it down. Though they hadn't been able to connect the owner of the truck to any crimes – that they knew of anyway – they felt fairly certain that they needed a word with this person.

Peter sent off a team led by Jones to go find the guy. He wanted to go with them himself, but his job as an ASAC was more of a desk job, and he knew he should stay in the office leading the investigation from here. For now anyway. He might change his mind if they found out they were on the right track.

Back in his own office Peter checked his watch. He only had 10 minutes left before the Marshal's would demand to be part of the search. He called June for an update on her task on getting in contact with Mozzie. June were sorry, but she had no news at all. Her ways of contacting Mozzie were limited, too, and she had tried everything, left various messages, but he hadn't returned her calls yet.

Peter thanked her and asked her to get back to him if she heard just the tiniest peep from any of them. She promised and finished the conversation by stating matter-of-factly:

"_They didn't run, Agent Burke. Neal didn't run. You must find them."_

"_I'm doing my best"_, Peter answered.

But was he actually doing his best? He still felt unsure if he wanted to find Neal if he had run on his own terms. The agent in Peter told him, that Neal was a criminal, and if he ran off, cutting his anklet and breaking the terms of his work release, he should be apprehended, but the human being who he'd earlier called Neal's friend would want him to be free. Earlier... That was strange, Peter thought. Weren't they friends anymore? Yes, they were! Peter decided that, right there at this very moment. Whatever his frustrations had been, whatever his confused mind had led him through these past months, his heart told him one thing: Neal was his friend, and he honest to God hoped that Neal would be able to forgive him for his actions lately and look at him as his friend, too. Peter had to find him, not catch him, but find him. There was a difference. Peter saw that now. A big difference! Peter just had to figure out how to make use of FBI's resources to find Neal without catching him...

At that moment one of his agents came bearing more news. The technicians had managed to pull some data from the broken phone. It wasn't Neal's. Peter was just about to say a few curse words, when the agent continued:

"_But it has Neal's phone number in it!"_, he proclaimed, and added: _"__We haven't been able to check the voice mail yet, but we will soon."_

"_Do you have a list of calls going in to or out of the phone?"_, Peter asked feeling the rising buzz in his body that he always got when they got closer to solving a case.

"_It'll be here in a few minutes"_, the agent replied. _"__I'll get back to you as soon as we have more, Sir, but the list should be on your computer shortly."_

Peter thanked the agent and was already tapping his keyboard to look for the list. Patience, Peter, he said to himself, then decided to go grab a cup of coffee and hopefully that would be enough for the list to appear on his screen when he came back. He had barely left his office before he noticed a couple of Marshals walking through the glass doors. Peter braced himself for the inevitable discussions that would soon be happening.

* * *

To Neal the time seemed to have stopped entirely. For a while now he'd been left alone in the darkness. Even though his eyes had time to adjust, he really couldn't see much and he'd had to feel his way around which wasn't easy with his hands bound behind his back. He had tried wriggling out of his ties, but they were just too tight and instead of ripping his wrist open in the process he soon decided to try and relax. At first he had walked around the room, feeling for any sharp edges along the walls or at the table, but to no avail. Finally, he decided to find his way back to the chair – which had turned out to be easier in his mind than in reality. He happened to find it when he bumped a toe against one of the legs. Auch! Shit! Stupid chair, Neal thought.

He sat down. The metal was cold. It wasn't like the room was seriously cold, but consider his clothing, or lack thereof, it was no wonder he felt chilly. He was fidgeting, couldn't sit still, felt the adrenaline leave his body and various aches and tension reappearing. His mind started racing. Now that he had no physical tasks to do, he couldn't help it. What was that about his father? No... Not his father. James! He didn't want to think of him as anything similarly to family. But what did he have to do with this? Neal wondered. He couldn't think of any reasons for James to be holding both him and Mozzie as captives. He must've realized by now that all the evidence of what James had done in his younger days was now in the hands of the FBI. It wouldn't help anything doing this. Of course he would also know that Peter had been released a long time ago, all charges dropped. The only thing Neal could think of as an issue was the fake recording of James admitting to have shot Senator Pratt. Of course that could cause a lot of problems, but on the other hand the only thing James would truly manage by kidnapping Neal and Mozzie would be to put himself on the map all over, making him visible to the FBI. He wouldn't gain anything. Surely, James couldn't believe that he could exchange Neal for the evidence box? And if the FBI believed that James had killed the senator, he would only be targeted even more by making himself a kidnapper, too. Neal was confused! And cold... The chilling sensation seemed to creep slowly into his bones.

For an hour, or maybe even more – Neal wasn't a hundred percent sure – he just sat there. Waiting. Thinking. Fidgeting. Shivering. Once in a while he could hear faint sounds of other people being around, but no one close by. No Mozzie. No talking. No cars.

Suddenly Neal heard the sound of the bolt on the door being released. He jumped off the chair and turned around, ready to face whoever was entering. Even if that someone would appear to be James.

But it wasn't. In the dim light from the hallway Neal recognized the man from the park. He didn't enter, though.

"_Why aren't you wanted by the FBI or the police? You cut your anklet almost 4 hours ago, and not even a BOLO has been sent out!"_, the man said while leaning against the door frame.

"_Maybe you just didn't hear about it?"_, Neal said in an even voice.

"_Oh, we would've heard"_, the man firmly stated.

"_Maybe they don't believe that I ran?"_, Neal suggested then.

The man cocked his head a bit and glared at him: _"__You're a criminal, breaking the rules, skipping your anklet, alarming the feds right away, and they don't think you ran?"_

Why did everyone primarily see him as a criminal? The words stung a bit, and Neal didn't know why, because he was. He was a criminal. Even lately he had committed about a dozen crimes and yet he felt that he was more than just a criminal. Deep down inside at least. And that was the problem. He rarely let anyone that deep inside, hence they wouldn't know who he really was. Who he wanted to be. Mozzie knew, but wouldn't accept it. Peter and Elizabeth knew, too... Well... they _believed_ he wanted to be more than a criminal... at one point anyway. He hoped that maybe someday they would believe in him again. Believe and forgive the crimes he had committed. If they ever found out of course.

"_I asked you a question!"_, the man said in a harsh voice as he walked closer.

Neal tried to keep the chair between them as a safety barrier, even though he couldn't see the taser anywhere.

"_And you better answer me!"_. The man pointed to the chair and added. _"__Sit!"_

Neal shook his head, took an extra step backwards and said:

"_I don't know if they think I ran or not, but I didn't cut my anklet. I didn't run! You abducted me. Maybe they know that. Maybe the have proof of that and they already know who you are. Where we are!"._

"_They don't"_, the man stated and commanded once again: _"__Sit!"_.

Neal didn't.

_"T!"_, the man suddenly yelled, taking Neal by surprise, and within a few seconds "The Hulk" - or T, apparently, Neal thought - was at the door.

* * *

**TBC...**


	7. Chapter 7

**Okay, so this chapter is mainly from Neal's point of view, because we need a little whump, right? I know I promised some of you a bit more, so here we go ;-)**

**Enjoy, and please review!**

* * *

Neal kind of knew that he should've just placed his butt in the chair when he was told to do so, but he was never one to follow orders easily or without questioning why. Usually he would just smile and everything would be okay after all, but he doubted that smiling to T would do much of a difference.

"_We need to teach him how to behave and follow orders!"_, the man said to T while shaking his head a bit and pointing in the general direction of Neal.

Neal was right. A smile didn't make a difference. There was nowhere to go either, and soon he felt T take a tight grip on his right arm and push him into the chair hard enough that Neal almost bounced off again. Damn, that guy was strong!

"_Arh, come on – easy now!"_, Neal tried, but all that happened was that T held him tight around the chest with one arm, gripped his hair with his left hand and hissed into Neal's ear:

"_Sit! Shut up! Listen! And speak only when you're asked a question. It's as simple as that. Understood?"_, he said and pulled Neal's head roughly backwards. Neal winced and was sure he was about to lose a handful of hair.

"_Understood?"_, T repeated and held Neal even tighter.

"_Yes! Yes I got it!"_, Neal said trying to push his head into the other man's hand to release the pressure on his scalp. He kept his eyes closed, because he was pretty sure that if he opened them they'd appear watery and he definitely didn't want that. T loosened his grip a bit, but he still kept a firm hand in Neal's hair. Neal breathed a little deeper.

"_Look at me, Neal!"_, the man from the park said and Neal clearly felt his presence close by. He opened his eyes and blinked a few times to clear his vision. Then he stared directly at the man in front of him, but he kept quiet.

"_I'm gonna ask you again... Why aren't you wanted by neither the FBI nor the police, and why wouldn't they think that you ran when the alarm of your little jewelry went off?"_

"_Look, I seriously don't know"_, Neal said trying to sound as convincing as possible.

"_Make a guess then! Use that apparently smart brain of yours and tell me what you think"_, the man said tapping his index finger on Neal's forehead. Pretty much in the same way Peter had done back in the days when he told Neal the story about Jimmy Burger.

"_I think your boots are ugly, and I'm smarter than Jimmy Burger"_, Neal said with a smile.

That earned Neal a slap to his cheek.  
_  
"Ow..."_, he said in an even voice, then added: _"__Guess that wasn't what you thought, I was thinking."_

T tightened his grip on Neal again, and the man in front of him sighed heavily, placed his hands on his hips and walked a few steps away, before he returned to Neal.

"_Let's try something else"_, he said. _"__Who exactly receives the alarm when your anklet is cut?"_.

"_The Marshal's Office and my handler"_, Neal answered a little short of breath. He felt his chest and especially his arms and hands being squeezed between the chair and the pressure from T's arm.

"_Well now, see... You DO know how to answer questions without being annoying. I think you're learning after all"_, the man smiled at him. He continued:

"_What happens when the Marshal's get the alarm?"_

"_I don't know... exactly"_, Neal said still keeping eye contact with the man.

He was trying to memorize every single detail of the guy's face despite the lack of light when a thought struck him. None of their captors had ever bothered about hiding their faces! That wasn't good. That either meant that they felt secure that no one would ever find out what they had done... or... Neal gulped. They intended to kill both him and Mozzie when they were no longer of any use for these guys.

"_What happens when your handler gets the alarm?"_, the man asked.

"_He gets frustrated!"_, Neal said without hesitation.

The man in front of him cocked his head and cleared his throat.

"_You really wanna go down that road again, Neal?"_, he said.

Neal shrugged the best he could in his present position. _"__Actually, I'd rather go back the road we drove on when we first arrived here..."_

That earned Neal another slap to his cheek.

"_Ow! What's with all the slapping?"_, he asked in a slightly raised voice. He felt the heat in his cheek.

"_That's what happens to boys who don't listen"_, T said from behind him.

"_I listen!"_, Neal argued, _"__and I even reply... somewhat... honestly when you ask questions. It's not my fault you don't like the answers!"_

"_Maybe you just need to cool down for a bit. Your cheeks look a little red"_, the man said and placed his right hand gently on Neal's burning cheek. _"__You do feel a little hot, too"._

He signaled to Neal to get up, and T released his grip.

"_Come on!"_, T said and took hold of Neal's arm.

They followed the man out of the room, down the hallway and all the way out to the courtyard. It was almost dark outside, and Neal wondered how many hours had actually passed.

"_Let him go"_, the man said to T who roughly shoved Neal forwards. He stumbled and fell to his knees in the gravel. He almost face planted since he had no chance of breaking his fall with his hands still bound behind his back.

Before Neal could get back on his feet he heard the sound of water running behind him. He looked back over his shoulder while trying to get to his feet, but he froze completely, caught off guard, when ice cold water hit him square between his shoulders. Both T and the man from the parked laughed at his reaction. Neal desperately tried to get away from the water, but it hit him hard and quickly moved to his head which Neal tried to cover by pulling up his shoulders and shielding himself by turning his back to the water jet. He spat out a bit of water. The jet moved towards his legs, his feet. Cold! It was like being stabbed with icicles repeatedly, Neal thought.

"_Are you cooling down, Neal?"_, the man said with a smirk and moved around to face Neal, making the water hit him in his chest and his face.

"_Didn't I teach you to answer when being asked a question, Neal?"_, he continued.

Neal could hardly breathe. He was soaked. And cold, not the least! He coughed and sputtered. The water jet hit his abdomen and moved downwards, but before it hit his crotch Neal fell to the ground and curled into something similar to fetal position.

"_F-fuck you!"_, he stuttered. His teeth were chattering.

The water disappeared.

"_Are you still feeling hot, Neal?"_, the man said in a menacing voice.

Neal sucked in a breath, shivering all over. A few seconds passed and the water came back, but he was too numb to truly registering where it hit him.

"_No"_, Neal said trying to keep his voice steady.

"_Have you cooled down?"_, the man continued.

"_Yes"_, Neal simply said. He didn't have the energy to do much else. He had no idea that cold water could drain one's powers this fast. Note to self: Never try winter swimming!

Suddenly Neal heard the voice of the third guy:

"_The BOLO is out! I just heard it on the scanner. They're looking for him!"_

A few seconds later the water was turned off and for a short time Neal just lay there on the ground, soaked, in a pool of dirty, cold water, trying to catch his breath. He felt the wind slide over his body. He was frozen to the bones and quite sure he'd never be able to uncurl himself again. However, that never became an issue, because two pairs of hands quickly hoisted him to his feet, practically carried him into the house and back into the room at the end of the hallway. Neal hardly noticed anything until they dropped him on the floor. The floor that previously felt cold was actually now feeling warmer than ever.

"_I'll make you a deal"_, the man from the park said. He crouched down in front of Neal.

"_I think you've learned your lesson, so I'll give you 15 minutes to dry off. Then I'll come back and if you show me you know how to behave and not act like a brat, I'll give you some pants and maybe – MAYBE",_ he stressed, _"__a dry t-shirt."_

He took hold of Neal's chin and turned his head upwards so to be able to look at his face.

"_Look at me, Neal"._

Neal did. And oh, how he wished the guy would disintegrate right then and there.

"_Do we have a deal?"_, the man asked.

Neal simply nodded, not trusting his voice to be anything but a stuttering sound.

"_Good boy",_ the man patted him gently on the head.

Then he rose to his feet, left the room and bolted the door shot. Neal closed his eyes - not that it mattered. Everything was dark anyway. Somehow it was a relief knowing that the authorities were looking for him – even if they did it, because they thought he'd run. Damn, I'm cold, Neal thought. Fucking cold! His entire body was shivering. He still didn't know what this was all about, but he knew that he had to brace himself and start thinking before he spoke – or didn't speak. At least until James showed up. That son of a bitch hadn't even shown his face yet. The least he could do was to handle his dirty work himself. Neal would tell him that for sure!

How long time was 15 minutes? God, I'm cold. Peter, please find me. You always find me. Oh, Mozzie... You need to find Mozzie, too. Bring a coat, will ya? I should've kicked that man right in his private parts. Who is he really? Where is James? Peter, please find me. Neal's thoughts were flowing in all directions and then he drifted off.

* * *

Peter had spent almost 20 minutes discussing the various ways of continuing the search for Neal. The Marshal's didn't know about Mozzie at all. Peter had decided not to tell them that their apparent fugitive's best friend was also missing, because that would surely ignite the argumentation from the Marshal's.

They finally agreed on sending out a BOLO and involving Missing Persons Division, but not go out in public and list Neal as wanted. Peter had managed to convince the Marshal's that if Neal was really on the run a public announcement would probably send him deep under ground and they would have a harder time finding him. And in the case that something else had happened, and Neal hadn't disappeared on his own terms, it would still enhance their options if any kidnappers didn't know that they were looking for Neal intensively.

Except from that, their next moves were to check the passenger lists of all outgoing flights for any suspicious names, send teams to various locations of Neal's interest – including Rachel Turner's apartment – and find out if Neal had made any interesting phone calls lately.

A technician knocked on the door to the conference room.

"_We have voice mails from the broken phone!"_, he said and sat down a laptop on the table. _"__And here is the list of incoming and outgoing phone calls",_ he added.

Peter started looking through the list of phone numbers. The list he had wanted so badly, but hadn't had time to look at since the Marshals arrived. Meanwhile the technician played the first message. Peter's jaw almost dropped to the floor when he heard the sound of his wife's voice. The next message was also from El. The third was from June...

"_That's Mozzie's phone!"_, Peter exclaimed.

"_Who's this... Mozzie?",_ one of the Marshals asked.

"_Moz... Mr. Haversham",_ Peter corrected himself, _"__is Caffrey's friend"._

Diana looked at Peter with worry all over her face.

"_He would never crush his phone and dump it like that!",_ she said.

"_No! No he wouldn't...",_ Peter agreed.

"_How do you know – and why is that important?",_ the other Marshal asked.

"_Because...",_ Peter didn't really know how to explain. _"__He's very... protective... of his belongings, and especially his phone. This is not good. Something happened!"_

Peter spent the next 10 minutes on convincing the Marshal's that Neal would never hurt Mozzie and that Mozzie would never trash his phone in a way that it could easily be found so this could only point in one direction. Someone else had smashed it and made sure that Mozzie wasn't able to pick up the pieces and get rid of them properly.

The debate between Peter and the Marshal's was interrupted by Peter's phone. It was Jones. They had found the guy who both owned and had been the one driving the truck. He claimed to not know of anything regarding Neal - or Mozzie for that matter – but they had still detained him.

"_We found Neal's anklet, Peter",_ Jones said. _"__In three pieces – definitely cut – and... You're not gonna like this, but... I think there's a tiny bit of blood on it."_

"_Blood?",_ Peter repeated.

"_Not much, Peter, and I'm not even sure it's blood. I'll have it examined. But...",_ Jones hesitated.

"_Yes?",_ Peter inquired.

"_Neal wouldn't cut his anklet like that. He'd have acquired a key somehow. Would've done something fancy. And he would most definitely do it in a way that wouldn't draw blood!",_ Jones said in a very convincing way.

"_I know",_ Peter said. _"__And I agree... This is bad. Really bad! Get back here right away, Jones."_

They were going somewhere now – but it was absolutely not in any direction, Peter would ever have wanted this to go. However, they didn't have enough leads to point them in the exact direction. They weren't completely blank here, but they sure didn't have much to move on. At least now Peter knew one thing for sure: He needed to find Neal, and he needed to do it ASAP!

* * *

**No, I haven't forgotten about Mozzie... TBC...**


	8. Chapter 8

**Another chapter found its way through my fingers last night and early this morning. I wrote this between 00:30 and 6 AM, but I hope it hasn't affected my writing in a bad way... Enjoy!**

**WARNINGS: A bit of language and an annoying man in fancy boots, nothing major...**

* * *

Mozzie was sweating. It was a job a lot harder than expected to get rid of his bonds. He suspected that the crooks had indeed done a bit of research about the capabilities of their captives, and that he and Neal still managed to get free – well, partly anyway – in the car must have made them even more conscious about how to keep him immobilized.

So far the only thing Mozzie had actually succeeded in was bringing the chair a little bit closer to the shelves. He had done that by rocking as much back and forth as possible, which wasn't a lot considering the way the duct tape was tightened around his chest, feet and arms. He had no idea on how long time he had spent working on his bonds so far, but he needed a break and to be honest he could really need a drink of water, too. Guess that wasn't around the corner.

Mozzie was listening to the silence. Even when straining his ears, he couldn't hear much going on. After a while he heard some talking close by. Not loud in any way, but he got the feeling that it was someone talking to Neal across the hallway. Then he heard one man yelling for tea or something... But who would want tea that desperately that he'd need to yell for it? Oh, Mozzie thought a few seconds later. They weren't asking for something to drink...

He still couldn't hear all details of the conversation going on, but he decided that now was a good time to start sending positive vibes in Neal's direction and silently pleading him not to do anything rash.

* * *

Back on the 21st floor of the FBI building the office was buzzing with busy agents all focusing on various tasks. Now that they were almost 100% positive that something had happened to Neal, as well as Mozzie, neither Peter nor any of the others had any reasons to thread carefully. They all knew what to do.

Jones had arrived a few minutes ago, and he and Peter were now interrogating the owner of the truck while Diana was on the phone desperately trying to make the lab work faster to confirm that the tiny spot of blood on the anklet piece was actually Neal's.

A couple of other agents were looking through more surveillance footage, and they had noticed another car, a dark van, which they really wanted to track down, but unfortunately the license plate was impossible to read. They needed more details about the van before they could ask the NYPD to look for it. Too many dark vans were a part of the New York City traffic, so unless they found some more information it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

In the interrogation room Peter and Jones didn't make much progress. The owner really seemed to not know anything about the anklet pieces found on the flatbed of the truck. He hadn't seen any people near his truck at any time, and Peter realized that he couldn't hold the man any longer. Besides... there wasn't any point in doing so anyway. He gave him his card and asked the guy to call him right away if anything that could help came to mind, even if the thought it wasn't important.

Peter had been more than busy the last hour or so, but since he had time for a small break now, he felt that he needed to call Elizabeth and let her in on what was going on. He also needed to ask her if she knew of any locations connected to Mozzie.

Naturally Elizabeth was anxious to hear from her husband, but the news Peter had did nothing to calm her down – on the contrary. Even though Neal had caused a lot of disturbance in their lives lately, she finished off the conversation by saying:

"_You'll find him, Peter, I know you will! You'll find both of them. And if they're together, you and I both know that they make a great team, right?"_

"_They do, honey, and you're right. I will find them. We just need to figure out what might have happened. We're working on different theories, but I'll get back to you later. I have to go now",_ Peter said to his wife.

"_Love you",_ El said.

"_Love you, too, hon",_ Peter said, trying to sound as optimistic as possible even though Elizabeth hadn't been able to add any possible locations to their list of places to search for leads.

In his mind he started going through the list of possible suspects, a list that he knew his agents were already working on. Neal had a history unlike many others and that made up for a long list of suspects, though some seemed less possible than others: Matthew Keller, Rachel Turner, any possible partners of Curtis Hagen that they didn't know of, James Bennet, Dobbs, Kramer? No... it couldn't be Kramer. He wouldn't go down that road. But still Peter wanted to put him on the list – at least on his own.

And all these people were only those that Peter and the FBI knew of. Since Mozzie was also missing they might not even be anywhere close to figuring out who the culprits were. He knew even less about Mozzie's background than he did about Neal's.

He sat back in his chair and looked out over the bullpen. Where are you, Neal?

* * *

Neal woke when he heard the lock on the door open and the lights were turned on. He blinked a few times trying to adjust to the sudden flood of light. The fifteen minutes had felt like an eternity and a split second all at the same time. He was still curled up on the floor, shivering, wet and cold and he didn't move until he saw a pair of well-known boots entering his field of vision. Then he turned his head a bit and looked away.

"_So Neal... ",_ the man squatted in front of him, placed his hand on Neal's head, stroked it gently and then moved on to rest his hand on his upper left arm. _"__You don't seem too hot anymore. How are you feeling?"_

Neal glared at him. In his mind he wanted to ask the man, how he would feel about being thrown into a freezing cold river after being kicked in the balls, but instead he gathered all his will-power to speak without his teeth chattering audibly.

"_Cold...",_ he said.

"_You remember our deal?",_ the man asked him.

"_Yes...",_ Neal said in as steady a voice as possible.

"_Good!",_ the man said and stood up.

He threw a towel on the floor in front of Neal and continued:

"_Get up, sweep the floor – you've made it all wet – and then sit down."_ He pointed to the chair behind him.

Neal's brain sent messages to his limps, but they acted a lot slower than usual and apparently a bit too slow for the man's patience.  
_  
"Now!",_ he said and and started pulling Neal up by his hair.

Neal fought to get his shivering body to work properly, first onto his knees and then onto his feet. He was stiff and everything was aching. Except maybe from his hands. He couldn't really feel them at all which was no where reassuring, Neal thought. When he was almost upright, the man let go of him, and he started sweeping the floor with the towel using his feet. He noted the small cut on his left ankle. Obviously it had been bleeding a little, but whatever they had wrapped around his ankle earlier had done it's trick and it was already healing.

"_Hurry up",_ the man urged.

Neal decided to take the chance and ask a question.

"_Could you loosen the ties a bit? My hands are numb",_ he said in a casual way, keeping his eyes focused on the floor and what he was doing.

"_Excuse me?!",_ the man said in a slightly surprised voice.

"_I said: Could you lo...",_ Neal begun, but he was cut off.

"_I heard what you said, Neal!",_ the man said and folded his arms across the chest. _"__Did I give you permission to speak? Did I ask you a question?"_

Neal had finished cleaning dirt and water off the floor and he turned his gaze upwards and locked eyes with the man staring at him with a frown.

"_No!",_ Neal stated clearly.

"_Sit!",_ the man said and moved to the side, turning a bit to keep Neal in front of him.

Neal did. He kept eye contact as long as possible, and he didn't feel comfortable when he finally had to sit down facing away from the man. He still felt cold wearing the wet t-shirt, but he was starting to feel more in control of his movements and his speech again. Maybe moving around for a bit hadn't been that bad.

"_You've done good, Neal",_ the man said placing his hand on Neal's right shoulder while moving in front of him again. _"__I'll give you a choice, despite your little mishap on speaking without permission"._

Neal rolled his eyes and sighed.

"_I can loosen the ties on your hands a bit, but I'll strap you to the chair",_ the man said with a smirk, _"__or I can give you some pants and let you move around the room to get warm. What do you choose?"_

Neal thought about it. It wasn't an easy choice. He really felt cold and vulnerable – he hated to admit that, even to himself – without pants, and it would be nice to move around and get warmer.

On the other hand he was cautious about his hands. They were his tools, and he would definitely need them to escape. But being strapped down, unable to move, and still being cold and wet would do no good for him in the long run, especially not if he wanted to enhance his chances of escaping.

"_What do you say, Neal?",_ the man grinned.

Neal swallowed.

_"Will I get a dry t-shirt?",_ he asked looking directly at his captor.

"_Then you shouldn't have spoken without permission",_ the man said shaking his head.

Neal tried wriggling his hands and fingers as he had done many times before during the last – how many? - hours. Not much movement there. At the same time he felt a shudder and Neal took a deep breath.

"_Pants",_ he said. _"__I want pants."_

Without a word the man walked to the door. Neal looked over the shoulder to follow his movements and saw him bend down, pick up something left outside the door, and then walk back towards Neal. He threw a pair of sweatpants in Neal's lap and stood back crossing his arms.

Neal looked at the pants and then questioningly at the man.

"_What?",_ the man grumbled.

"_How am I supposed to put'em on without my hands?",_ Neal said moving his arms a bit indicating that they were still not just kind of stuck, but very well stuck, behind his back.

"_Not my problem",_ the man said with a cocky smile. _"__You chose pants! But don't worry, you're in no hurry. It'll be another hour or two until your father is here."_

"_Don't. Call. Him that",_ Neal hissed through gritted teeth locking gaze with the man.

"_Uuuh, touchy subject, I take it",_ the guy said looking back at Neal, a broader smile forming on his lips.

Neal kept his posture still. Didn't even move his gaze away, and he didn't care about speaking without permission when he very clearly stated:

"_James is NOT my father!"_

"_You don't like him now, I see",_ the man said and added: _"__Then wait until you find out what he's done!"_

He moved towards the door. _"Put your pants on! I'll leave the lights on for 2 minutes."_

Neal heard the door lock behind him. He stood up from the chair and let the pants fall to the floor. He almost felt like kicking them the hell out of his way, but he took a couple of deep breaths instead to calm himself down. It didn't help much, but a few seconds later he crouched down anyway trying to find a way to hold the pants still while each foot found its way through the respective pant leg. It wasn't easy, and he was scrambling around on the floor, probably looking incredibly ridiculous snaking his way into the pants, but there was no fucking way he was gonna face James wearing only his boxers and a t-shirt.

All the moving around combined with the anger boiling in Neal helped him getting warmer, but the wet t-shirt was still cool to his skin when he finally stood up. The lights went out, but in the darkness he still managed to pull up the pants the rest of the way with the help of the chair and his practically numb hands. Neal panted and sat back down on the chair for a bit catching his breath.

The darkness that had once again surrounded him actually felt comforting this time. At least now he was sure that no one could see him. He bend his head forward, swallowed hard. His eyes felt watery, and he couldn't help it when a single treacherous tear fell down his cheek. He dreaded whatever James had planned, and he hated the man. He hated him from the bottom of his heart. For ruining his relationship with Peter, for putting the FBI Agent, and not least Elizabeth, through hell, for being such a coward and for not being the father Neal had hoped for. Why Neal had ever wanted the man to be a part of his life was the biggest question in Neal's head right now. James did nothing but ruin everything, from Neal was just a kid more than 30 years ago and to this very moment when he once again – without even being present – managed to ruin Neal's composure.

* * *

**TBC... and please leave a review and constructive criticism, if you have some :-)**


	9. Chapter 9

**First of all, thanks for all the lovely reviews and comments. I appreciate every single one of them - even if I haven't replied to all of you directly.**

**Second of all, I think I might have forgotten to mention that English is not my first language, so if you notice any strange sentences or if you see me using British spelling in between, I'm sorry. I try to write this in American, but I might mess up here and there.**

**WARNINGS: Curse words and whump**

* * *

Peter looked at his watch: 7:48 PM, and it had been about 5 hours since the anklet alarm went off. The FBI had reached something like a stand still. No new leads had turned up. They hadn't been able to find out more about the dark van from the surveillance footage. Peter looked over his notes. In fact they hadn't even been able to confirm for real that Neal – and most possibly also Mozzie – had been kidnapped, but the cut anklet and the blood indicated that something had happened. Peter felt the hair rise on his body when thinking of the blood. The lab had confirmed that it was Neal's. The only good thing was that the amount of blood had been very limited. He hoped that it meant that Neal wasn't seriously hurt.

At the moment they were working on a theory that someone who needed the skills of both Neal and Mozzie had abducted both of them: Neal from the park and Mozzie from close by. Whoever took them must have known about Neal's deal with the FBI and they seemed very professional leaving pretty much no clues.

Peter was anxious. He wanted to do a lot more than he was capable of right now. He watched his agents in the bullpen – everyone was still working hard on finding their missing C.I. He noticed, however, that the energy seemed to have slowed down in most of them. Waiting often did that. And right now they were waiting. Waiting to see if the BOLO – which now included Mozzie – brought up anything.

Missing Persons had suggested that if they hadn't found any good leads or heard from any kidnappers in the morning they should probably go for a public announcement listing Neal and Mozzie as "missing persons". The biggest problem was that they had no pictures of Mozzie, and even if Peter suspected that he was somehow connected to – if not – Teddy Winters, he had nothing but Neal's drawing from the case, and that drawing was most definitely not Mozzie. Peter would have to sit with a sketch artist instead, he thought. He would have felt much more secure just asking Neal to draw a portrait of Mozzie, but... well, that was kind of impossible in the situation.

Peter left his office and for a moment he just stood there looking out over the bullpen. He cleared his throat:

"_Listen up, everybody. It's getting late... Does anyone have anything new to work on? Do we have some actual leads to go by for the moment?"_

Most agents shrugged or shook their heads. Not the uplifting reactions he had hoped for.

_"Jones?",_ he asked and looked his colleague hopefully in the eyes.

"_Sorry, Peter",_ Jones said regretfully.

_"__Okay",_ Peter took a deep breath. _"__Let's call it a day. The NYPD is on the lookout, but I want you all to be prepared to get back here right away if important information pops up during the night. Otherwise, go home. Get some sleep, and we'll find Caffrey in the morning. Missing Persons are working over night on the rest of the surveillance and preparing for a public announcement tomorrow."_

It was a tough decision to make, but he couldn't keep his people working 24/7. Rested agents were better agents. Peter knew that, even if it was hard to let go as long as he knew that Neal and Mozzie were out there and maybe in danger.

The agents took their boss' advice and silently left one after the other. Jones came up the stairs before leaving.

"_Are you gonna follow your own advice, Peter?",_ he asked. _"__We can't do much more today, we have no leads..."_

"_I know, Jones, and yes... I'm gonna take my own advice. I need to go talk to El anyway. She's worried, too",_ Peter said. He continued:

"_What bothers me the most is that we have NO idea who's behind this. The list of possible suspects is huge – and we still can't even rule out that Neal did this himself"._

Jones looked at Peter, tilted his head a bit to the side and asked:

"_Do you really believe that, Peter?"_

Peter turned around, rubbed his hand across his face and said in a voice filled with despair:

"_No! No, I don't... My gut tells me that this is bad. I think, I knew from the moment the alarm went off, but I was confused by the possibility that Neal had ran off. You know, Jones... He asked me for his freedom. I wanted to give it to him. I practically promised him it would happen, but the higher-ups turned him down. Too big an asset for the bureau. I told Neal about it and he left in anger – just a few hours before the alarm went off."_

Jones was listening carefully to Peter's words. He could clearly see that the agent had been affected by all this. More than he would probably admit.

"_But I don't think he was as angry, as he was hurt... And then this happened. At the worst time possible. If I hadn't had that conversation with Neal today, I wouldn't have doubted a second that something had happened. But I did. And maybe I wanted Neal to have run off",_ Peter continued.

Jones was about to say something, but Peter stopped him by holding up his hand.

"_Don't! Don't say anything, Jones. It clouded my judgement and maybe we lost important time by me not..."_

This time Jones cut in anyway.

"_Listen Peter. It doesn't matter now. What's important is that we are working full force on finding them, and if we don't have any leads now, we wouldn't have had any leads earlier either",_ Jones said and put a reassuring hand on his boss' shoulder.

The two agents talked a little more about what could have happened, about their next moves, about the tasks for tomorrow, but without reaching any further conclusions. They broke up, left the office and went home, both of them hoping deeply that Neal and Mozzie would be all right. Jones, however, also wondered how two criminals had managed to sneak their way into his life in a way that made him worry about their safety.

* * *

It had been a while since Mozzie last heard any sounds from the hallway. Meanwhile he had once again started wriggling every part of his body, pulling as much as possible on his bonds and he was now sweating all over. Again! However, it appeared to be helpful, because Mozzie had a feeling that he had more room for movement now than earlier. He did have one problem, though. To get free he'd need to get off this damn chair. He looked around, trying to figure out what to do. He tried stretching his legs and leaning backwards to see if he could pull the duct tape free from the back of the chair.

Suddenly Mozzie felt the ground disappearing below him, and the chair – and he – tumbled over, landing on the left side. Ouch! For a second Mozzie froze completely, listening carefully to make sure that no one had heard the noise and would be joining him in a moment. Nothing happened! Mozzie let out the breath he'd been holding. He scrambled trying to turn enough around to free the left arm which was now halfway pinned beneath him and the chair, and he realized that part of the chair was now a bit wobbly. It partly broke in the fall, he thought – make use of the weakness!

Bingo! The duct tape on the right leg was giving in and a couple of minutes later Mozzie was able to free his leg, and by scratching with his foot on the duct tape and the pants on the left leg, it didn't take long until both were released of their ties.

See now, progress. Mozzie cheered inside. He snaked his way upwards, and slowly – inch by inch – the duct tape was reaching the end of the back of the chair. Mozzie used his feet for leverage pushing the chair away and finally – finally! - he was no longer stuck to the awfully uncomfortable chair.

Okay, time-out! Mozzie was panting. He was so out of shape that struggling like this made his pulse speed up, and he was only halfway. His hands were still tied together behind his back, and duct tape was still hugging his chest and arms like a snake curling around its prey.

Mozzie sat up. He had no idea how much time had passed, but he had a feeling – according to his growling stomach and slowly rising pressure on his bladder - that several hours had passed by now. Anyway, it was time to move on and get rid of the rest of the bonds.

He got to his feet and went for the hook on the shelf. He could use that for cutting... Well... if he could reach it, that was. Mozzie stood on his toes, stretching as far up as possible, but he was still quite far from reaching the hook. He tried rubbing up and down the edge of the shelf instead, hoping to find some kind of semi-sharp edge that could cut the tape. No luck. Mozzie was swearing inside. Stupid, annoying, crappy duct tape. He had come so far, and yet he still had a long way to go.

Mozzie was just about to kick the chair far away when he heard talking in the hallway. Shoot! Please don't come in, please don't come in, he pleaded in his head.

* * *

Neal had let the darkness comfort him for a bit, but then he breathed deep and stood. With the help of his shoulder he dried away the wetness on his cheek and he slowly started walking around in the darkness counting the steps from one wall to another, trying to get warmer. He wished he could get out of the wet t-shirt.

After a while Neal started feeling warmer, but he kept pacing the room, back and forth, back and forth. At one point he heard a thud that made him stop and strain his ears, but nothing more happened, so he kept on walking around.

The t-shirt wasn't as cold and damp anymore which told him that quite some time had passed. He wondered how Mozzie was doing. He hadn't seen or heard him for hours. Neal was tired, hungry – and wouldn't mind visiting a restroom sometime soon – and when he reached the wall again, he let himself slip down to the floor, resting his head on the wall behind him.

He smiled to himself. If he could get his hands free, he'd relieve himself by the door, pound on it until someone came in and stepped in his piss and then he'd make a run for it. If he didn't succeed at least he would have the joy of having annoyed the shit out of his captors. He started wriggling his hands and fingers again. How could they hurt when they felt numb at the same time? His shoulders were aching, too, and Neal wondered how many hours it had been since he had been able to truly move his arms. He should've enjoyed the moment of "freedom" a little more when they'd asked … no commanded... him to strip. Right now he'd happily accept such a brief moment of free movement, just to soften the tension in his shoulders.

Then he heard talking in the hallway and the door opened at the same time the room was flooded in light. Neal partly closed his eyes to let them adjust to the light, but otherwise didn't move.

"_Hi Neal!",_ a familiar voice said.

Neal could swear that he felt venom in the way his name was pronounced.

"_What do you want... James?",_ he stressed the name, then he opened his eyes and turned his head towards the man who was his father by blood, but would never ever be family by heart.

"_How's Agent Burke?",_ James asked.

He stepped into the room followed by T and the fancy boots man from the park.

"_Fine! Not thanks to you",_ Neal said and followed the men's movements closely.

T grabbed Neal's arm, hauled him to his feet and steered him towards the chair. He sat down, not so much by choice as by force.

"_What do you want from me?",_ Neal asked again when James walked around to face him.

_"What I want?",_ James raised his eyebrows and looked at Neal. _"I gave you an advice about not taking the fall. I didn't want to do this, son, but you gave me no choice."_

Neal quickly stood, took a step and actually managed to push James a little backwards with the simple use of his body, and he faced the man directly, close enough that he could smell his breath. T grabbed the neck of his t-shirt and his upper right arm to drag him away from James.

"_I am NOT your son!",_ Neal almost spat the words out and continued in an angry voice:

"_Let go of me!"_

He pulled free of T's hold.

James was obviously taken by surprise by Neal's anger and sudden aggressive movements. He stepped back a little further. Neal stepped away himself, shooting daggers at T, daring him to touch him again. For a few seconds no one said anything and no one moved.

James held up a hand, signaling to his men to hold back. Then he looked at Neal.

"_You and Mozzie didn't make it easy for me, Neal. If you had just let Peter take the fall it would never have come this far, and you could have moved on with your life."_

"_I'd never let an innocent man take the blame, and neither should you! I didn't make it easy for you? Such BS!",_ Neal said trying to keep his voice steady, but he couldn't hide the anger.

"_Do you realize how much trouble you caused? What I've had to go through, because you left? Because you were too much of a coward to stand up? What Peter went through? And Elizabeth?"._

Neal let out all the steam that had been building inside him ever since the moment James walked out his door several months ago.

James shook his head: _"It was YOUR choice to throw yourself into that mess. You could've turned your back, Neal!"_

He continued: _"I know about the fake confession. And that put me back on the wanted list. YOU put me back on the list! But I told you, Neal, I'm not gonna take the fall. I can't prove the confession is false."_

"_Why are you even still here?",_ Neal interrupted.

"_It's quite simple, actually",_ James said. _"I couldn't get away. I guess you - or maybe even more your little friend - still have a lot of power among forgers in New York. I couldn't get a new ID."_

James paused, cocked his head and smiled at Neal: _"But I'm getting one now."_

Neal huffed: _"If you think I'm gonna make you a fake ID or passport or whatever you're sadly mistaken, because I'm NOT!"_

James laughed.

"_My boy... I know you're talented, but there are other people who can get me what I want... For the right payment!"_

"_So... why do you need me?!",_ Neal said a little puzzled.

"_Payment!",_ James dryly stated.

Then he signaled to his men who both stepped into action going for Neal. But Neal didn't give in that easy when it dawned on him what his father meant.

"_You're not gonna get away with this, you son of a bitch!",_ he shouted at James while quickly moving to the other side of the room, ready to fight with all his might.

"_Don't do this, Neal!",_ James simply said, shaking his head a little and following his son's movements around the room.

The two men came closer to Neal reaching out to grab him, but he kicked out and quickly moved away. They tried to corner him, but the adrenaline was pumping in Neal and he kicked at the men again. This time he actually hit the man from the park in his shin. Neal rejoiced when the guy yelled from pain and limped a few steps backwards. Neal turned around and sprinted for the door, but the man recovered quickly, and T was faster than one should think considering his was heavy built and within seconds he tackled Neal from behind. They fell to the ground, and Neal struggled and wriggled to get out of the other man's grip. But his fight was fruitless. When Neal felt a powerful hand pull his arms upwards away from his back, he couldn't do anything but get on his knees and bend over to release the pressure on his shoulders. T pulled further, and Neal screamed, sure that his shoulders would pop their sockets anytime.

"_Stop!",_ James commanded. _"Don't hurt him!"_

The pressure was released a bit, and for a moment Neal actually felt relieved that James really didn't want to hurt him badly.

James squatted in front of Neal who was panting and trying to catch his breath.

"_His value drops, if you break any bones",_ James said and patted Neal's cheek. _"And I promised them an exquisite product."_

He then kind of inspected Neal. First checking the cut on the ankle, apparently being satisfied with the minimal damage from cutting the anklet, then his hands and his fingers carefully.

"_We should probably restrain him in another way – looks like the blood flow to the fingers isn't the best, and he's tearing up his wrists. Tie his hands a little looser and then strap him to the chair"_, James said to his men.

"_Behave, Neal, and we'll both have a new life soon!",_ he said with a smirk and continued: _"Isn't that what you've been dreaming of anyway... son?"_

James left the room, and the two men manhandled Neal to the chair. He felt the zip ties on his hands being cut, but before he had time to take advantage of them being free, they were quickly re-tied, though not as tight as before. Other zip ties were wrapped around his elbows and strapped to the chair.

The man from the park tied Neal's legs to the chair and then gave him a long speech about how exciting his future would be, how his father had spent weeks on planning this, and about how unacceptable behavior shouldn't ruin a great man's life, because James was a great man. He had killed a corrupt senator, he had made great money back in the days, and he would do that again.

The guy finished off by saying that he never let anyone get away with hitting – or kicking – him, and despite his father's wish about not hurting Neal, he just couldn't help it. Then he hit Neal hard across the jaw. Neal's lip split and he tasted blood.

The men left. Neal never said a word, but inside he swore to himself that he wouldn't make it easy for James. No matter the cost.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! TBC...**


	10. Chapter 10

**Another chapter for you - I'm sorry this one took a bit longer than the previous, but I've been busy. Anyway, here ya go. If you like it, please review. If you don't, please let me know why not :-)**

**And once again, thanks a lot for all the follows and reviews so far! I'm eternally grateful!**

**WARNINGS: None really**

* * *

Mozzie had silently been listening to the commotion going on across the hall. Though he hadn't been able to hear everything going on, he did recognize the voice of James and hear parts of Neal's angry words. He understood. He promised Neal – and as a matter of fact Elizabeth, too – that they would get out of here and they would bring James with them back to the FBI. Never before had Mozzie felt the desire to actually turn up at the FBI's offices on his own behalf, but he would if it meant that James would be going down. Going down for all the trouble he had caused Neal, the Suit and not least Mrs. Suit. Yes, Mozzie decided, they would bring him in. They had been looking for James all over the city, they just hadn't expected to find him this way, but they would work with what they had. They had done more with less, Mozzie was quite sure about that.

He looked around the tiny room for a bit and noticed the bucket in the corner. An old fashioned metal bucket? Oh, that could be useful. With the help of his feet, Mozzie managed to turn the bucket upside down and place it in front of the shelves. He climbed on top of it, balancing carefully, and he could finally reach the hook. It took him a few minutes, though, to cut through the duct tape and at one point he thought for a second that he was actually stuck to the hook. Mozzie stepped down onto the floor again and shook off the tape itself by making it stick to the nearest shelf.

Next step was the hands. Mozzie smiled behind the tape on his mouth. Oh, I'm getting there, piece of cake by now. He sat down and after a bit of scrambling around he managed to pull his legs through his bound arms, and he felt quite relieved when they were finally in front of him. It also felt kind of nice to move his shoulders again, Mozzie realized, when he moved his hands up to reach the hook and cut through the tape. It didn't take long, and Mozzie celebrated the first step towards freedom by ripping off the tape from his mouth. Ouch, that actually hurt! Who ever said it hurt less if you pulled it off quickly must have been lying.

Mozzie rolled his shoulders a bit, lifted his hands in the air and stretched. He needed to get rid of all the kinks and tension before moving on. He really had no idea on how many hours had passed since they had been abducted, but every minute that went on was one minute too many.

After a few moments, Mozzie started investigating the door and not least the lock. He would have loved to have Neal's lock pick skills right now, but he wasn't too bad himself, so he could do it. First step, first: Finding a pick! Mozzie started pulling at the nail on the back of the door. It didn't move at all, his fingers only kept sliding off every time he tried to get at hold on it. How about the hook then? No, it was too thick. He needed some kind of tool to pull out the nail. Mozzie looked around. Paper, shelves, broom, bucket, duster – he patted himself down – buttons, clothes... Clothes? Hmm... wait a minute. Mozzie took off his shirt and without hesitation he ripped apart one of the sleeves. Considering for a moment just to leave the rest of the shirt on the floor, he looked down himself. No! No way would he walk around wearing just a white undershirt. He'd be looking like John McClane fighting terrorists in Die Hard, and Mozzie had already done that once before when he and Neal broke into the Howser Clinic – not fighting terrorists of course, but looking like John McClane - and in Mozzie's humble opinion that was enough of Bruce Willis imitations. Quickly, Mozzie put on what was left of his shirt. Definitely better than the alternative!

He carefully wrapped the piece of cloth around his hand, thumb and index finger and got back to working on the nail. A tight grip and Mozzie started pulling, wiggling and pulling some more. Still, it didn't feel like the nail wanted to give in, and after minutes of unsuccessful work, Mozzie threw away the cloth and cursed the nail.

Mozzie was so close and yet so far away! He sat down against the wall resting his arms on his knees. There were no windows in the tiny room, so his only way out was the door. He could of course just bang it, scream and yell until someone opened it and then make a run for it, but how clever would that be?

Now that he sat down, he was reminded that his bladder needed to be taken care of as well. Mozzie sighed. How could their captors even expect him to just stay put in here for this long? Why hadn't they checked on him? Was he really that unimportant? Then they weren't professionals for sure. Mozzie smiled to himself. Yeah. Let them just forget about me and I'll take them by surprise, he thought. But first.. nature's calling!

He actually didn't feel comfortable doing so, but he convinced himself that he had no choice, and in the end Mozzie relived himself into the bucket in the corner of the room after having – unconsciously – looked over his shoulder to check that no one was watching.

Suddenly Mozzie felt exhausted. He hadn't had anything to eat or drink for hours and his body was running on fumes. But he needed to think. He needed to figure out his next move. He sat back down, resting his head against the wall, and looked around the room without movie anything but his eyes. Maybe it would be okay if he rested for a moment. Just a moment, Mozzie thought, and before he knew of it, he drifted away.

* * *

Neal had spent a while trying to figure out exactly who would be the one or ones that would give James a new identity with Neal being part of the payment. He knew he had pissed off a lot of people throughout the years, but still he felt fairly certain that most of the really good forgers in and around New York knew about his and Mozzie's friendship, and Mozzie had earned great respect from most of the same people who thought of Neal as a traitor. Many of those people wouldn't dare hurt him if it meant they would feel the wrath of Mozzie.

Thinking of Mozzie made Neal a little more worried. It had been ages since he had seen or heard his friend, and he wondered how he was doing. On the other hand Neal shouldn't be worried, because Mozzie knew how to take care of himself – even in troubled times.

Neal's thoughts were interrupted when he heard someone at the door behind him. It was really annoying that the chair was facing away from the door so he couldn't feign disinterest and still take a peek at the person entering.

The door opened, and the low voice of a man who Neal didn't recognize at first sounded through the room.

"_You hungry?",_ he said.

Neal was a puzzled. Huh? That was probably the last question he had expected. He turned his head around and saw the dark silhouette of the guy who had threatened Mozzie with a knife in the van.

"_A bit",_ Neal said trying to figure out if this was some kind of trick while his stomach desperately told him that it was way more hungry than just a bit.

Without a word the guy left, locked the door behind him, and the darkness surrounded Neal again. This time, however, it only lasted a few minutes, before the lights were turned on, and the door was once again unlocked.

Neal squinted at the light, and when he managed to see what was going on, the man stood right in front of him peeling a banana. He held it out towards Neal's mouth.

"_Eat",_ he said.

For a second Neal wondered if the banana could be poisoned or filled with drugs somehow, but since he had just seen the man peel it, he decided to take the chance. He took a bite and looked at the man.

"_You know... I could hold that myself if you release one of my hands",_ Neal said with a wry smile.

"_Just eat and appreciate that I'm actually giving you something",_ the man said, once again lowering his voice.

Neal took another bite and sensed that he wasn't really supposed to be eating. The man kept casting glances towards the door. Neal figured he'd try another approach.

"_Look",_ he said, _"I really need to take a piss, too. Please take me to the bathroom."_

The man looked at Neal, definitely suspicious about his request.

"_Not gonna happen, dude",_ he said shaking his head.

"_Please",_ Neal pleaded. _"Imagine yourself not being able to go for … I don't know how many hours it has been by now, but I really gotta go, man."_

Neal took the last bite of the banana and added with his mouth full:

"_Please!"_

Actually, Neal didn't like appearing this humble, but if it would grant him the chance of getting a break, he could do humility for a bit.

The man grumbled and started for the door.

"_Come on, it's just a bathroom break",_ Neal quickly said, before the man closed the door.

He stopped with his back at Neal, pausing for a couple of seconds, then he looked over his shoulder and asked:

"_You really need to piss?"_

"_Yes",_ Neal said, sounding almost resigned. _"A lot!"_

The man popped his head out the door and looked down the hallway, then he sighed and turned around taking out the knife from his pocket.

"_Keep quiet, and if you as much as think of running, I promise I'll cut your throat!",_ he said while cutting the ties on Neal's elbows and feet that tied him to the chair. He didn't release his hands, though, but just took a firm grip on Neal's right arm and hoisted him to his feet while holding the knife close to Neal's throat.

Okay, the guy was definitely being careful, but neither the grip nor the knife kept Neal from straining his ears and keeping a close eye on everything – especially the door behind which he suspected Mozzie was still being kept.

While Neal was led down the hallway he noticed numerous doors on each side, and at the end was an open door into a room where the lights were on. He could hear faint noises from either a radio or – more likely – a police scanner, Neal thought. That would make sense, now that he thought back to the moment when the kidnappers had heard about the BOLO. Neal didn't get to go all the way through the hallway, before the man opened a door to the right, and he was led into a tiny restroom. He let go of Neal's arm and signaled to him to get going. Neal lifted his shoulders and wriggled his hands indicating that he'd need those to complete the mission.

The guy just shook his head, took the key from the keyhole in the door and whispered:

_"Two minutes"_

Then he left, closed the door and locked it from the outside. Neal sighed deeply. Even though his hands weren't tied as tight as earlier there was no way he'd get them free, do his business – because in all honesty he really had to – and pick the lock in two minutes. Besides... As far as Neal knew, the guy might as well stand right outside the door the entire time.

Taking a piss with your hands tied behind your back wasn't an easy task on its own, but while struggling to make it happen, Neal took his time to scout the room for any useful objects within reach, but it appeared like the restroom was only meant for guests. There was just a small window up high, it didn't have any closets, no shower, and Neal figured that a roll of toilet paper, a bar of soap and a toilet brush wouldn't work as the best escape tools.

Before he knew of it, he heard the door being unlocked. He hurriedly finished his business, and when the guy stepped into the room and grabbed his arm again, Neal silently thanked his captors for giving him sweatpants. If he had still been wearing his own pants he most likely wouldn't even have managed to get them open enough to avoid wetting himself.

Neal felt the pressure of the knife at his throat again and without resistance he was escorted back to his "cell" where he was shoved into the chair.

"_Don't. Move.",_ the guy said while moving the blade of the knife to be awfully close to Neal's eye.

Neal instinctively moved his head back, and the guy pulled out new zip ties from his back pocket. Neal knew for sure he hadn't been carrying those all the time so he must have retrieved them when Neal was in the bathroom, which meant he actually hadn't been standing guard outside. Not that it mattered, anyway, since Neal never had the time to try an escape.

It didn't take long before he was securely strapped to the chair again, and when the man stood up after having tied Neal's legs to the chair, Neal dared asking another question:

"_How about my friend",_ he asked looking directly at the man in front of him.

"_What about him?",_ the guy responded seemingly uninterested in Mozzie.

Neal elaborated.

"_How is he doing? Did you give him something to eat, too?"_

The man shrugged and started to leave.

"_He hit me with the hammer!",_ he simply stated, closed and locked the door, and then the light went off.

Neal took a deep breath and leaned his head backwards. He would've loved to know how Mozzie was doing, but Neal guessed that they had been serious when their kidnappers initially stated that they didn't really need Mozzie, but just had to bring him along to stage the impression that they had run. And hopefully Mozzie's punishment for hitting the guy had simply been neglect. Then Neal straightened in the chair. Was that a knock? He listened carefully. Yup, definitely knocking and quiet talking.

* * *

Mozzie startled. What the heck was that? Then he recognized the sound of soft knocking on the door and he heard a low voice asking:

"_Yo shithead, you alright in there?"_

Within a second Mozzie felt the adrenaline running through his body. If that guy came in now, all his struggles, all the hours he had spent on getting free of his bonds, could turn out to be a waste of time. Mozzie quickly, yet as silent as possible, stood up, looked around and grabbed the broom for a weapon.  
_"Hope you're feeling terrible, but I don't want you dead... yet",_ the voice continued and Mozzie realized it was the guy from the van.  
Remembering that he was supposed to be gagged, Mozzie's only response was:

"_Mmmmm..."_

He begged to the god of criminals – if such one existed - that making some mumbling sounds would be enough to make the guy know he was alive, but not enough to cause him to enter. Still he got ready, halfway behind the door, holding the broom in a way that made him look like the cleaning guy pretending to be Darth Vader.

Nothing happened. Mozzie listened, still ready to attack if necessary, but no... Nothing happened, and after a bit Mozzie let out the breath he'd been holding and relaxed a little.

He put his ear close to the door, but there were no sounds at all. He figured the guy had left, but just to be sure he stayed ready – and quiet – for a few more minutes.

* * *

Elizabeth had tried comforting Peter when he got home. Tried to make him understand that his initial hesitation in regards to finding Neal hadn't made a difference – and if it had, it was only due to the fact that he somewhere deep down inside wanted Neal to be free. And was that such a bad feeling? No, Peter had agreed, it wasn't, but he still felt like they had lost precious time now that they were almost 100% positive that they needed to not just find Neal and Mozzie, but actually needed to rescue them.

They had gone to bed a couple of hours ago, but it was obvious to both of them that they wouldn't get much sleep. Peter was anxious. Checking his phone on a regular basis to see if he had missed any messages. At one point he even got up to check his email as well. Nothing.

When he climbed back into bed, Elizabeth wrapped his arms around him.

_"Honey",_ she whispered

"_Yeah",_ Peter sighed and turned around to look at her in the sparse light from the street lamps shining through the curtains.

"_What do you think happened?",_ she asked.

Peter caressed her cheek.

"_I don't know",_ he said. _"I wish I knew! Somehow I wish that we'd at least get a ransom demand or something. Then we would have something to work with. We have nothing, hon. Only indications that someone took them both. We don't even know for sure. We have no proof."_

For a while Peter and Elizabeth just laid there, holding each other, lost in their thoughts and silently praying that Neal and Mozzie would be found, safe and sound. Soon.

* * *

**TBC...**


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry that this chapter took a bit longer than expected. I know, I promised some of you that it would be online Sunday at the latest, but I got caught up by the White Collar project campaigning for a Season 6. Anyway... Better late than never.**

**WARNINGS: Nothing major...**

* * *

Since Mozzie had long ago decided that he was getting out of the storage room, it was time to figure out how to pick the lock – or breaking down the door in silence. Maybe it was the adrenaline that had kicked in, when one of his captors spoke to him through the door, but Mozzie suddenly felt full of energy. For a while he carefully investigated every corner and shelf, the floor, the broken chair and everything else in the tiny room, and he realized that he actually had a lot of things to work with.

He grabbed a piece of the broken chair and started cutting into it with the use of the hook. He was glad that his hands were now free so he could reach up, because he really couldn't imagine himself having to pour out his own pee to be able to use the bucket as a stool. Actually, now that he came to think about it, the smell of pee had slowly started spreading in the room. Okay, he definitely needed to get out soon. The first piece of the chair, he tried shaping as the needed tool, appeared to be too fragile when the hook suddenly went all the way through.

Back to the mess of the half broken chair and various pieces of duct tape, Mozzie shuffled through it all and found a new piece and started all over.

He kept scratching the wooden chair leg and slowly he carved a small hole, not too deep, but still big enough for the head of the nail to fit in. After a few attempts going back and forth between the nail and the hook measuring his progress, Mozzie almost cheered out loud when the nail finally got stuck in the piece of wood, he had come to think of as homemade pincers. And he was quite proud the moment the nail finally started moving. Mozzie slowly pulled and wiggled, and twice in 5 minutes he had to bite his tongue to avoid breaking into a loud victory cheer when he pulled out the nail.

In the pile of splinters from the chair Mozzie found one long enough to be his second pick. You damn door, I'm gonna get you know, Mozzie thought. Then he turned around ready to start working on the lock, when he heard a sound from the hallway. Shit! Mozzie had been so focused on finding and creating his tools that he hadn't paid attention to any sounds, and he froze completely. However, he quickly recognized the sound of the other door being unlocked and he sent a few appreciative thoughts at Neal for being the one attracting all the attention. He wondered how long time he had actually spent on carving his tool and pulling out the nail. Mozzie stuck his tools in his pockets and silently grabbed hold of the broom again – ready to attack if whoever was on the other side of the door decided to pay him a visit, too.

* * *

Neal was half asleep with his chin resting on his chest when he heard the lock on the door again. He had no idea how long time had passed, but it didn't really feel like much more than 5 minutes, though he suspected it had in fact been a lot more.

When the door opened Neal kept the posture, pretending to be sleeping. It really wasn't hard, because he felt rather drained. The light wasn't turned on, but Neal heard the person approaching him from behind.

"_Yo, sleeping beauty, wake up! No rest for the wicked",_ the guy from earlier said in a gruff voice and slapped Neal in the back of the head. Not hard, though, just enough to make sure that if Neal really had been sleeping, he would definitely be awake now.

"_What?",_ Neal said annoyed, lifting his head and looking up at the guy in the dim light shining through the open door.

"_I get no sleep, because I have to keep an eye on you, so you get no sleep either",_ the man smirked and bend down to check the bindings on Neal's legs.

He stood up and walked behind Neal, pulled at the ties on the elbows and then more roughly at the hands. Neal winced a bit. He hadn't really had the opportunity to look for any bruises on his wrists, but he felt sore when the ties cut into his skin. They might have tied him a little looser this time, which meant no numbness, but apparently it also meant feeling the traces of being tightly bound for hours.

"_You're not going anywhere. See you in a little while!",_ the man behind him said ruffling Neal's hair and then heading towards the door.

"_Don't fall asleep now! Oh! And by all appearances your little friend is still alive",_ he added, but before Neal had the chance of asking for more information, the door was shut and locked.

* * *

Across the hallway Mozzie was listening intently and breathing a sigh of relief when he heard the door being locked and nothing more happened. Still he waited a few more minutes before he got back to his project.

He grabbed his tools from his pocket and set to work on the lock. At first he failed, though. The end of the sliver broke off, but he kept going even though the piece was now a bit smaller than he had wanted. Mozzie was carefully getting the feeling of the lock, while he felt drops of sweat run down his forehead. Stay focused. Concentrate... Click! Mozzie slowly led out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and took hold of the handle. He listened for any sounds from the hallway. There was nothing. No voices. No steps. He turned off the light in the storage room, and silently he pushed down the handle and opened the door just half an inch to take a peek into the hallway. Nothing to see at all. Mozzie strained his ears even more, almost not daring to breath when he opened the door wider.

He thanked his clever self for the choice of shoes and the soft rubber soles when he stepped out of the room and across the hallway to the door behind which he expected to find Neal. He put his ear close to it and listened, still hardly breathing. But again he heard nothing.

Mozzie glanced down the hallway. He was seriously exposed out here in the light, but first of all he needed the light to see what he was doing, and second of all he didn't dare turn it off afraid of someone noticing.

He got down on one knee and started working on the lock with his – by now – almost useless wooden pick from the chair. It had to last! Mozzie carefully wiggled his tools, let them become extensions of his fingers, and after a few minutes he heard the long awaited click. He stood and wiped away a few beads of sweat from his forehead before he silently pushed down the handle. The door didn't budge. For a second Mozzie was seriously confused and thought he maybe imagined the click from the lock, but then he looked up and saw the lock bolt. He had been too focused on the key lock to notice it earlier. He eased the lock back as silent as possible and opened the door. The room was all dark except from the light streaming in from the hallway.

* * *

At first Neal thought he would be left alone at least long enough to take a nap, but then he heard some rustling at the door. He sighed and readied himself for another annoying visit from the guy who – Neal thought about it – was a strange mixture of a bad ass criminal and a softhearted man. Neal didn't feel comfortable about not being able to label the man foe by all means or possible to-be-convinced-friend.

Nobody entered, though, and Neal wondered if he his mind had played tricks on him, but then he definitely heard the door being unlocked. A few seconds passed and the light from the hallway was streaming into the room. Neal turned his head around, still a bit puzzled about who was entering. It didn't sound like any of his and Mozzie's kidnappers. They had never been this silent. What he saw, made him smile big. He'd recognize that silhouette anywhere, anytime.  
_  
"Mozz",_ he whispered.

"_Neal? Where are you?",_ Mozzie asked and opened the door a little more.

The light caught Neal on the chair in the middle of the room, and Mozzie hurried to his friend, catching a last glimpse down the hallway, before he entered the room completely.

"_Mozz, are you okay?",_ Neal asked.

Mozzie put a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder before he started pulling at Neal's bonds. He hadn't calculated on Neal being tied with zip ties. They would be hard to cut through only with the use of the nail.

"_I'm fine. They left me alone all the time",_ Mozzie said and continued, _"but we need to get out of here. Are YOU okay, Neal? I heard James earlier, and... Are you hurt?"_

Mozzie started checking Neal over for injuries in the dim light, but Neal pulled away.

"_Mozz! Mozzie! I'm fine. Listen to me, I'm fine",_ Neal said in his most calm voice and continued. _"You need to get away, get out of here, get help!"_

"_What do you mean, I need to get away. WE need to get away",_ Mozzie said and started sticking the nail into one of the zip ties around Neal's right leg, pulling at it at the same time, trying to free him as quickly as possible.

"_They check on me all the time, Mozz",_ Neal explained.

"_If you actually manage to get me out of these ties without scissors or a knife, they'll know in a few minutes that we're gone. We won't get much of a head start, and we need that. We don't know where we are. Get out of the house, get away, hot-wire a car or something. Just..."_ Neal took a deep breath. _"Leave me and go!"_

Mozzie stopped working on Neal's bonds.

"_Do you know what they want from..."_ Mozzie didn't finish the sentence. Instead he shook his head and continued working on the ties. _"I'm not leaving you, Neal."_

"_Mozz!",_ Neal said, almost forgetting to keep his voice down. _"We won't make it!"_

Mozzie looked at his friend who was staring down at him. He very well knew the expression on Neal's face. He was determined. And Mozzie knew he was right. He had heard all the times their captors had been in the room with Neal. But he had also heard Neal's yells and screams, and his heart told him to save his friend. Mozzie was about to say something, but Neal stopped him.

"_Don't, Mozz... Just go. I'll manage. But hurry. James has ordered new ID papers, and I'm the payment. That's all I know! Pet.. The FBI needs to know of this, before James gets away. You need to get word out to Peter that James is here. Convince him that I didn't run. Now, Mozzie!"._

"_Are you sure about this, Neal?",_ Mozzie said and threw a glance towards the door before he looked back and locked gaze with Neal.

"_I'm sure!",_ Neal stated convincingly.

Mozzie got up and then he reached behind Neal's back, pushed the nail into his palm and folded Neal's hand around it.

"_Keep this! Just in case... It's all I've got",_ Mozzie sighed. _"The door has a bolt lock on the outside. If I lock that, we can hope that they will simply think they forgot to lock the other one with the key last time they were in here."_

He squeezed Neal's shoulder.

"_Be careful, Neal!",_ he whispered, almost inaudible.

"_I will! And you, too",_ Neal nodded and turned his head away. _"Go!"_

Mozzie hurried out of the room, closed the door behind him and turned around looking at the locks. He honestly hoped that their kidnappers would think that they had forgotten to lock. His fingers hovered over the bolt lock. He didn't like leaving his friend this way, tied to a chair and not least in a room with a lock he couldn't pick from inside.

Mozzie took a deep breath and let it out slowly through his mouth, before he pulled the lock in place.

Now to get out of here, he thought! Before going anywhere, though, he decided to go back to the storage room and take either a part of the chair or the broom with him as a weapon.

He decided on the chair leg that was almost broken off, but still seemed fairly solid. Mozzie silently closed the door to the storage room, before he put one foot down on the chair and with both hands broke off the leg. Mozzie stiffened for a moment. The cracking sound had surprised him. Damn, that was loud! He listened for any sounds from the hallway, but again he praised his luck when he heard nothing.

Mozzie left the room, carefully closing the door, and crept along the wall. He listened at each door he passed, and at one door he sensed the sound of snoring. He didn't dare check any of the closed doors, and the closer he got to the end of the hallway and the rooms they had walked through when they were first brought inside, he heard more sounds. Like a TV or a radio turned down low, but mixed with a more or less constant buzzing or crackling.

He slowly kept going and reached the second to last door. It was partly open and Mozzie sneaked a peek inside. It seemed like it had once been a kitchen – one that was no longer in use. Cupboards along one wall, a table along another, and a sink. Above the sink was a window – a very regular one of its kind! Mozzie pondered... They were most likely far away from other people or anything at all, and so he would definitely need to either steal a car – which would be at the risk of being heard, when the engine started – or go a long way by foot. The alternative would be to find a phone, call for help and then hide somewhere outside.

He walked closer to the window to figure out if he could get out that way easily, when he heard someone yawning loudly. He paused, held his breath. Clearly sounds of someone stretching, some indistinct mumbling, and then he heard footsteps.

* * *

**TBC...**


	12. Chapter 12

**To begin with I want to thank you all for following and reviewing my story. I appreciate each and every one of you for tagging along on my journey here. Now... let's get this story moving!**

**WARNINGS: A few words and a little whump!**

* * *

When Mozzie closed the door, Neal was left feeling a little jittery. On one hand he was anxious about staying behind, on the other hand he was cheering for Mozzie to get away and get help. But Neal knew that this was their best bet. As long as their abductors kept checking on him regularly, he would have a chance of stalling and giving Mozzie that extra time he would need to get far enough away to find help.

Neal was smiling to himself, imagining James' face when he would be led away wearing cuffs. Oh yeah, Neal thought, he was definitely looking forward to that!

Then he thought about the nail that Mozzie had given him. Right now it was still in his right palm, but he couldn't keep it there in case he fell asleep and dropped it. Neal started turning and twisting his hands. He would hide it in the waistband of his pants. He could do that, he just needed to... Aarh... come on now! Neal cursed inside. If they hadn't bound his elbows to the chair this would have been so much easier.

After a few minutes of pulling and stretching, twisting and wiggling, Neal had the nail between his index and middle finger, while holding the waistband out with the pinky finger. Carefully, very carefully, Neal tucked the nail into the waistband. Enough for it to get stuck, but not more than he would be able to get it out again using just two fingers.

Aah... mission completed! Neal relaxed for a moment. That actually felt good. To be able to do something, anything. Neal sensed a new round of energy boiling in him. He was ready to do whatever he could to ensure Mozzie got away.

* * *

Mozzie quickly and quietly pushed the door almost closed – as closed as he seemed to remember it had been before - and then he hid behind it, holding his improvised weapon ready.

He heard the person enter the hallway, open the door across from where Mozzie was hiding, some water running briefly, a little splashing, and then the person walked passed the kitchen door and down the hall.

Mozzie breathed a sigh of relief until he realized that this might be his chance to scout the primary rooms in the house. He had counted at least 4 people - enemies Mozzie stated to himself - and at least one was sleeping and one just passed by. He listened carefully and dared a peak into the hallway.

What he heard wasn't as comforting as he had hoped.

"_What the fuck?",_ the guy said.

Mozzie saw him locking and unlocking the door to Neal's room a couple of times. The now rather confused looking guy glanced around the hallway, and Mozzie quickly pulled back. He heard the guy releasing the bolt luck and entering the room where Neal was, hopefully ready for another late night visit. Keep him with you, Neal, please, Mozzie thought, mentally trying to convey a message to his friend.

Then he made a decision and hurriedly slipped out of the kitchen to the room at the end of the hallway. He discreetly poked his head around the door frame, no one there, flickering lights from a TV, a low buzzing... Mozzie entered.

He looked around, quickly searching for anything useful. He saw no phones, but discovered that the buzzing sound came from something looking like a police scanner. A few seconds of investigation told him, it was just so. Not a radio that could transmit, just a scanner.

From this room there were two doors. Mozzie seemed to recall that they had come through the one on the right when they first were guided into the house. That meant it would lead to a small hallway and then out to the courtyard. He quickly decided to check the door to the left.

At first he listened carefully, holding his ear close to the door. No sounds. Then he pulled down the handle and slowly pushed the door open, just an inch.

This looked like a more modern open kitchen with a dinner table and way more room than the old kitchen Mozzie had discovered a few minutes earlier. He stepped into the room, debated whether or not to turn on the lights. He didn't. Instead he just kept the door open, letting the light from the other room flow into the kitchen. There was a bag on the table. Mozzie shuffled through it and found the taser. He stuffed it in his back pocket. Nothing else seemed useful.

He turned around, scanned the rest of the kitchen. There was another door to the left. Again Mozzie put his ear close to the door, listening for anything that could give away what would be behind it. Nothing. He was just about to push down the handle when something on the kitchen counter caught his eye. Right there, next to 4 beer bottles, was that? Oh, almighty Alexander Graham Bell, a phone!

Mozzie quickly grabbed the cell, went back to the door, pushed down the handle and opened it quietly. A laundry room and... a back door leading outside. No time for hesitation! Be careful Neal, he thought, opened the door and left the house.

* * *

As soon as Neal heard the captor outside the door, he readied himself, for a moment considering whether to fake being asleep or not. He decided against it since it really hadn't been that long since the last check-up, and the way the guy loudly pulled the door handle and was scrambling with the key in the lock, Neal for sure would've been awake after all.

When the lights were turned on and the door finally opened, the guy almost stalked into the room. Neal turned to look over his shoulder and saw the guy checking behind the door and quickly scanning the room. The keys were still hanging in the key hole, Neal noticed, and the guy turned his attention towards them once more, locking and unlocking and checking to see if it worked all right.

He noticed Neal watching him.

"_What're you looking at, asshole?",_ he snapped.

"_You!",_ Neal shrugged and shook his head a bit. _"Problems with the lock?",_ he asked innocently.

"_Mind your own business",_ the guy said and jiggled the lock a little more.

"_You know... I could help you with that. I'm good with locks... or so I've been told",_ Neal said with a little smirk and turned his head back away from the apparently quite confused man.

Before he had time to say much more, Neal felt a hard push between his shoulder blades. Hard enough that he would have been pushed off the chair if he hadn't been strapped down.

"_Shut up!",_ the man growled and started checking the bonds over. Definitely more thorough this time.

He pulled at each zip tie, using both hands to make sure they were still secure. Neal winced when the ties cut into his wrists once again, but he didn't let the man know that it actually hurt a bit.

"_You checked the ties not that long ago. Do you really think I would still be here, if I had managed to get loose?",_ Neal said as the most natural thing in the world.

"_Oow",_ Neal couldn't prevent the little word from slipping through his lips, when the man grabbed his hair and roughly pulled back Neal's head. He held up his index finger in front of Neal's face.

"_Hush! I don't wanna hear a single peep coming from your mouth the rest of the night, got it?",_ the guy growled.

Neal opened his mouth, just about to say something.

"_Uh-uh!",_ the guy said, shook his head, and pulled a little more at Neal's hair, before he released his grip.

Neal had an extreme desire to rub his scalp and make sure he had no bald patches, because right now he felt like he had just lost a handful of hair. While the man bent down and started pulling on the ties on the left leg, Neal casually checked the floor beside the chair for any large amounts of hair, but he saw none. However, his attention quickly returned to the man in front of him when he felt the bonds on his right leg being checked over. Needless to say, the man was briefly stunned, when the ties easily broke, and Neal's right leg was free.

"_Wow! You're strong!",_ Neal said putting on an impressed facial expression, the best his con man self could muster in the middle of the night.

The man pulled himself together after a few seconds. He looked at Neal, still holding the broken zip tie in his hands.

"_You...",_ he said. _"You did this!"_

He threw the broken tie in Neal's lap and headed for the door.

"_Why do you think so?",_ Neal quickly spoke up and added: _"Maybe you just didn't tie me well enough earlier. You don't have enough brains to secure a prisoner with something as simple as zip ties?"_

Neal knew he was playing with fire here, but he had to keep the guy in the room. He had to buy Mozzie some time. It worked! The man stopped dead in his tracks and turned back around, facing Neal.

"_Oh, you don't wanna go down that road, my friend!",_ the guy said with a slight smile on his face.

"_So I'm your friend now?",_ Neal asked, looking surprised. _"Just a few moments ago I was an asshole, but if I'm your friend now, you probably don't mind releasing the rest of my bonds, right?"_

Neal smiled – one of those wide ear-to-ear grins that Peter hated and always saw as a guarantee for Neal being up to no good.

"_You think, you're so clever, don't ya?",_ the man said, slowly walking back towards Neal, circling the chair, studying him carefully.

"_Actually, yes I do",_ Neal continued, still smiling. _"Even my FBI handler says that I'm smart. See, he likes smart. That's why we made the deal about me working for the FBI. You DO know that I work for the FBI, right? You don't do that unless you're intelligent."_

Neal followed the guy's movements as much as possible without turning his head all the way around. When he disappeared from Neal's vision, Neal felt the hairs rise in the back of his neck. He sensed it happening just a second before it actually did and pulled up his shoulders, but it didn't make much of a difference when the guy stepped up close behind Neal, slowly snaked his right arm around Neal's neck, locked his hands together and held Neal in a choke grip.

Neal swallowed. He could still breath. It wasn't tight, just uncomfortable.

The man bend down and whispered in Neal's right ear.

"_Lack of oxygen kills brain cells, but you probably know that already...",_ the guy paused and pulled his arm a little tighter around Neal's neck. _"... since you're so smart",_ he continued.

Neal turned his head more to the left, releasing the pressure a little, and concentrated on breathing. The grip still wasn't too tight, but he did feel a little uneasy, and Neal figured he would be in trouble soon if the guy decided to tighten his grip just a tiny bit more.

He felt the warmth of his captor's breath close to his ear and his cheek, as the guy whispered:

"_I could choke you. Right here, right now, without you being able to smart-mouth you out of it."_

He released his grip and stood, patted Neal on the head and walked in front of him.

"_But I'm not gonna do that, because I'm not allowed to hurt you..."_

Neal breathed deeply and looked up.

"_... seriously",_ the man added and gave Neal a punch right in the stomach.

"_Ungh",_ was the only response from Neal, as he tried bending forward, pulling at his bonds. He gasped, squirmed in the chair and coughed a little.

"_Oh!",_ the man suddenly realized something. _"But I can hurt your friend!"_

"_NO!",_ Neal yelled through his gasping breath. _"Don't... Don't hurt him!" _He coughed again.

"_You're in no position to tell me what to do or not do!",_ the man huffed, crossing his arms.

"_I think, I might need a little exercise anyway. Boxing sounds nice. I just need a punching bag – I wonder where I could find such one",_ he said, rubbing his chin with his thumb and index finger.

"_Maybe I should check the storage room",_ he smirked, tilted his head a little and looked at Neal.

Neal started pleading, stalling the best he knew.

"_No, please! Please, don't hurt him. Mozzie's just a friend. He's got nothing to do with this, with James or anything."_

"_I'll be right back!",_ the man walked towards the door.

"_But you said, you don't have a key",_ Neal almost yelled.

"_I did say that, didn't I? But maybe I lied",_ the man said and browsed through the various keys in the bundle.

"_Yup, there it is!",_ he smiled big and held up a key for Neal to see.

Neal tried pleading a little more, but a few seconds later, the door slammed shut, and Neal heard it lock. He waited... Taking a few deep breaths. He could almost hear his own heart pounding in his ears.

"_What the HELL!? Guys! GUYS! Get up, get out here!"_

Neal heard a couple of doors opening, people talking at the same time, things being thrown, yelling.

Mozzie, my man, he thought and closed his eyes momentarily, I hope you had enough time!

And hell broke loose...

* * *

**TBC...**


	13. Chapter 13

**I'm sorry about this chapter taking a bit longer than the others, but I have to divide my time between writing this fic, taking care of the White Collar Season 6 campaign - check out WhiteCollarClosure .TV if you don't know what I'm talking about - and that something called life... ;-)**

**Anyway, off we go!**

**WARNINGS: Whump and language**

* * *

A lot of things seemed to happen all at once. It was obvious to Neal that his and Mozzie's captors were almost tearing down the house in their search of Mozzie, and it didn't take long before the door was banged open and James stalked into the room. Neal turned around just in time to duck his head and avoid the worst of his father's anger when he lashed out at Neal. Instead James grabbed a handful of Neal's t-shirt and pushed him back in the chair forcefully.

"_Where is the little guy? Where's Mozzie?",_ he yelled.

"_I don't know",_ Neal said stoically and added with a little shake of his head: _"But I hope he's far away from here by now!"_

James looked even angrier than the day he had left Neal's apartment after Peter's arrest. From the open door behind him came a gruff voice:

"_He was here! The door was unlocked when I checked upon that piece of shit a little while ago. T and Sean..."_

The guy was interrupted by a yell coming from the other end of the house.

"_My phone is gone! And the taser! He's left the house!"_

James let go of Neal and walked with determination towards the door.

"_Bring him!",_ he said to the other guy, who hurriedly got out his knife and released Neal from the chair.

He pulled Neal up, having a tight grip on his right arm, and almost dragged him out the door. Neal noticed, a little uneasy, that the guy never put away the knife again. It was still far closer to Neal than he preferred.

* * *

As soon as Mozzie shut the door behind him he activated the display on the phone. First of all, he needed the light, because even though the moon was partly out it was way too dark to see much. He looked up and noticed a few stars shining bright. You never saw stars in New York. Clearly they were far out of the city – otherwise the city lights would have made it impossible to see any.

He quickly ran around the corner of the house, desperately looking for a car. He knew it would be a risk, but it was a risk worth taking, if he could get away that way. Mozzie quickly spotted the van and another car parked close by. He figured James had arrived in the car, and he didn't spend many seconds choosing that one over the van. At the same time he reached the car, he thought of something. Destroy the engine of the van! Cut the tires! Something! He would have to make it impossible for them to follow.  
Mozzie ran towards the van, quickly bending down and grabbing a handful of dirt. He opened the lit to the gas tank and threw it in. More, he thought, more! A couple of handfuls later, Mozzie was satisfied.

Then he ran to the front of the van, opened the hood and looked for any cables in the dim light. It wasn't as easy as he had thought, and he had to use all his strength to rip off the only cable he could spot. He pulled so hard, he almost stumbled backwards when it finally loosened and he lost the hold on the hood. He hadn't bothered locking it in place and it shut with a loud bang.

Mozzie quickly got his footings and ran towards the car. At the same time he noticed the lights being turned on in one of the rooms in the house. It must have been the kitchen. He looked up and saw one of their captors in the window, right where the phone had been. Shoot! He had to hurry. He pulled the door handle, but of course the car was locked. Who locks their car out here, far away from everything?

He didn't have time to find anything to use to unlock the car. He could smash the window! Mozzie searched the ground for a rock big enough to do the trick. Suddenly lights in the courtyard were turned on and Mozzie felt fully exposed. He crouched down behind the car. What do I do? What do I do? He frantically looked around.

When he heard a door opening and people yelling, Mozzie made a decision and ran across the courtyard to the trees along the dirt road leading away from the house. It was just a thin line of threes, but in the darkness they would have to be enough cover. He would hide. He had to hide. He had to. Mozzie held the phone tight in his hand. The light in the display had turned off long ago, but as soon as he pressed a number it would turn on again. Mozzie had to find a hiding place where no one could spot the light from the display.

As silently as possible Mozzie crept along the road, from tree to tree, crouching down in wet grass and behind bushes, treasuring the moonlight. He felt his way with his hand stretched out in front of him, afraid of stepping on a branch or anything else that would cause him to make that revealing noise. Some yelling from the courtyard made him pause for a moment.

"_Get some flashlights!"_

"_The cars are still here!"_

"_He can't have gone far!"_

Mozzie crept down even more, trying to appear as small as a toad, blending in with the shadows.

He heard a car door slamming and a motor starting. He dared to look up a bit and saw the headlights from the car backing up and turning around. When the lights hit the trees right in front of Mozzie, he squeezed down flat on the ground, hardly breathing. The car stopped for a moment.

"_I'll go down the road – check the trees front and back, the hedge, the ditch, everything! Find him!"_

Mozzie recognized the voice of the man in the fancy boots. He had appeared fairly calm the entire time, but he seemed aggravated now. No wonder, Mozzie smiled to himself. He loved causing trouble. But right now he would love even more to get away from here.

As soon as the car had passed his hiding place, Mozzie chanced another glance towards the house. What he saw unnerved him.

* * *

James was talking loudly on the phone when Neal was dragged out the front door and pushed down on his knees in the gravel. The man let go of his arm, but he kept standing right behind Neal, his left hand with a firm grip on Neal's neck and the right holding the knife awfully close to his head.

_"There's been a minor change in plans",_ James said on the phone. _"We need to push forward on the meeting. Get here this morning."_

James listened to the person on the other end for a moment. Then he continued:

"_I don't care. If you want him, you be here by 9. Bring my papers!"_

He finished the call, barked at the guy behind Neal to go help T look for Mozzie. James turned to face Neal.

"_I told you not to make me do something I was gonna regret. Do you remember that, Neal?",_ he said in a superior voice.

Neal just glared at James. He didn't say a word.

"_I regret one thing. Bringing Mozzie along was a mistake..."_

"_Then you should've just let him be",_ Neal said with a slight smile.

"_... I should've had him killed right away!",_ James continued, like Neal hadn't interrupted him.

Neal tensed, looked right into his father's, James', eyes and said with the most threatening voice of his:

"_If you EVER hurt Mozzie, I guarantee that you will not get to see the sun rise again!"_

James knew that Neal and Mozzie were best friends, maybe the most loyal criminal couple in the country, that they felt protective of each other, but he just laughed, stepped closer to Neal and put his hand lightly on Neal's cheek.

"_You're in no position to make those kinds of promises, son."_

James rubbed his thumb up and down Neal's cheek like he was comforting a little child. Neal pulled away from his touch. His eyes were shooting daggers.

"_Don't. Call. Me. Son!",_ Neal hissed, enunciating each word clearly.

"_You know, Neal",_ James continued, still smiling. _"You and I are very much alike. My blood runs in you. I always thought you were as weak as your mom, but apparently you got more than the blue eyes from your old man."_

"_Don't drag mom into this",_ Neal said, feeling the anger returning full force.

_"You ruined her life. You ruined MY life. YOU are the weak one, you were too weak to be a decent husband, to be a decent father. You were too much of a coward to stand up and tell the truth about shooting..."_

James cut Neal off by backhanding him hard. Neal was caught completely off guard, he lost his balance, and toppled over in the dirt. James got down on one knee, and in a swift move he had Neal lying face down, holding him down by placing most of his weight on his back.

"_If you ever call me weak or a coward again, to hell with my papers or new identity. I'll beat the crap out of you, making it up for all those times during your childhood where your mom didn't have the strength to teach you manners and respect",_ James almost whispered in Neal's ear.

Then he took hold of Neal's head with a tight grip on his hair and pulled backwards slowly.

"_Show your face, Mozzie!",_ James yelled loudly. _"I'll smash his pretty face, if you don't get back here. Come out, come out, where ever you are!"_

Right there and right then Neal decided that he'd had enough, enough of everything that involved his so-called father, and as soon as James released the pressure on his back to scout the area for Mozzie, Neal rolled around and kicked James right in the gut. James only managed a muffled sound of discomfort, losing his breath completely. Neal scrambled to his feet, launched a knee to James' chest causing him to fall over. Neal hardly deigned his father a look, before he turned around and ran.

Neal's hands were still tied securely behind his back, and even though he still had the nail hidden in his waistband, he quickly decided it would be faster finding a knife, some scissors, or another tool in the house. He ran back in, back to the lion's den, Neal thought, but since all the "lions" were outside, he figured he would have enough time to free his hands and get out.

He heard James yelling behind him, apparently he had gotten his bearings back.

"_You son of a bitch! T! Greg!"_

Neal didn't hear the rest. He was back in the living room, quickly scanning his surroundings, moved on to the kitchen, pulled open a couple of drawers, before he spotted the knives hanging on the wall near the stove. He jumped up on the table – he succeeded in the second try - sitting with his back against the wall, rubbing his hands up and down on the first knife he got his hands on. It only took a few seconds before the zip ties broke, and Neal was able to move his hands in front of him – for the first time in hours. His shoulders ached with the movement. They felt partly numb, he realized now that he could move freely again.

Neal quickly grabbed one of the knives – a slim, not too big one – and shuffled through one of the drawers to find the meat hammer he had spotted just a couple of minutes earlier. He noticed he was bleeding, but he didn't have time to care about that now.

He ran back towards the front door, but stopped abruptly right outside when he noticed "the Hulk" at James' side. James was back on his feet, but didn't seem all that ready to beat the promised crap out of Neal.

Neal's intention was to get to the van, but right now both James and T – still aka "The Hulk" in Neal's mind – were blocking the way. Instead he turned right, jumped over something that was probably once supposed to be a flower bed and ran towards the darkness and the trees. He suspected Mozzie had done the same and was hiding somewhere. Mozzie wasn't much of a runner, Neal knew that, and since his friend hadn't managed to get away in a car, Neal figured he must still be somewhere not too far away, hiding. Now that he knew a phone was missing, hopefully it meant that Mozzie had already called for help.

Running in the darkness, barefooted, wasn't the most optimal way of completing an escape, but his choices were limited, and Neal definitely chose mother nature over his captors.

* * *

Mozzie had been watching the commotion intently while trying to stay low and out of the way of the beams from the flash lights. He winced on Neal's behalf when he saw him topple over, and he unconsciously moved a hand to his groin when he saw Neal send James to the ground with a kick. Neal's escape gave Mozzie the break he had been looking for. He quickly moved further down the road, noticing the ditch running along, and at one point he almost stumbled over a huge root. Mozzie crouched down behind it, shielding the phone as much as possible, and as he had done many times before, he thanked whoever or whatever that once had decided to gift Mozzie with perfect recall. Then he pressed Peter's number, noticing the signal was only one bar, but it was there. It was enough. At least he hoped so.

* * *

In the early morning hours both Peter and Elizabeth finally fell asleep, but for Peter it was nowhere close to peaceful, and when the alarm went off, he almost felt more tired than when he went to bed the night before. He lashed out a hand, hit the alarm clock on the night stand and rubbed his eyes. The alarm kept sounding. He lashed out again and sent the alarm clock to the floor.

"_Hon?",_ El questioned.

It was still ringing. How stubborn can an alarm clock be, Peter thought.

"_Hon!",_ El shook his shoulder. _"Get that, it's your phone!"_

Peter grabbed his phone and looked at the display with only one eye open. Unknown number.

"_Peter Burke!",_ he said, a little hoarse.

Morning voice. He cleared his throat and sat up, resting his feet on floor that felt a little chilly.

The connection wasn't good, and he could hardly hear anything.

"_Hello? Who is this?",_ Peter asked, while turning the alarm clock on the floor around with his foot. 4:30 AM. Who would be calling him at this ungodly hour?

"_Suit, track the call!"_

"_Mozzie?"_

Peter was suddenly wide awake and he bolted out of bed. Elizabeth turned on the light, and Peter signaled to her to get her phone and come along. While descending the stairs, he strained his ears to hear what Mozzie was saying on the other end of the line, but he only caught bits and pieces.

"_... trouble... track it... where we are... but hurry"_

Peter felt frustrated, but the adrenaline started pumping through his body.

"_Mozzie, I can hardly hear you. Are you with Neal? Are you okay? Just stay on the phone!",_ he said.

He briefly turned the microphone away from his mouth.

"_Call the office. Call Diana and Jones!",_ Peter ordered and shuffled through his briefcase he had grabbed from the dining table. He threw a note book in the hands of Elizabeth and got back to the conversation.

"_... not sure... James... coming!",_ Mozzie was rambling off a lot of information.

"_James?",_ Peter asked surprised.

He once again told Mozzie that he couldn't hear him properly, but he should stay on the line. He almost yelled into the mobile, like it would help improving the connection, the louder he spoke. At one point the conversation silenced. He put the phone on speaker and placed it on the table to put on the clothes Elizabeth had grabbed for him before leaving their bedroom.

"_Mozzie? Mozzie are you there? Mozzie!"_

"_Diana and Jones will meet you at the office. Jones took over on the tracking of the call",_ Elizabeth quickly explained.

She left and came back with Peter's shoes and car keys. Peter yelled at the phone again.

"_Mozzie? Answer me, god dammit!"_

But even though the phone call was still active, there was nothing. No Mozzie, no talking. Just a static noise.

* * *

**TBC... Oh, and please review if you feel like it. If you spot any errors or typos, please let me know :-)**


	14. Chapter 14

**Okay, I'm really sorry about the delay of this chapter. It wasn't my intention to leave you all hanging this long, but I must admit that the announcement from USA Network confirming the only 6 new episodes in Season 6 has caused me to spend pretty much all my waking hours fighting for our beloved show. I hope you are all joining White Collar Closure on this mission.**

**Thanks for the many lovely reviews - you're all amazing! Anyway, back to the story...**

**WARNINGS: Mmm... not really this time, I think.**

* * *

Usually it would easily take 15-20 minutes for Peter to get to the White Collar office due to traffic, but at this early in the morning it didn't take much more than 10 minutes. However, Peter hardly recalled the trip afterwards, because he had spent the entire time trying to get Mozzie to talk on the phone, but it had been futile. At some point he thought he heard someone talking on the other end, but he couldn't hear much. It seemed like Mozzie was gone, though the connection still appeared to be open. Peter felt frustrated. So close to - and yet so far from - getting useful information.

Peter spotted a free parking space across the street, pretty much right in front of the FBI building. "Doris Day Parking", he thought to himself and smiled a little when thinking back to the day he had explained that phrase to Neal and Jones. He grabbed his phone and made sure not to disconnect the call by coincidence, before he ran to the lobby, got on the elevator and reached the 21st floor.

He was happy to see that Jones had already made it there as well, and Diana was on her way as soon as Theo's nanny showed up. Jones explained to Peter that he had set up the tracking of the call, and they had already narrowed it down to an area east of Beacon, about 1½ hour drive north of New York City. But it was a rather large forest area, and the mobile service was not that good around there which meant that the signal kept pinging between towers quite far from each other.

Suddenly their attention was pointed towards Peter's phone which he had placed on the table in the conference room. It sounded like someone was there.  
_  
"Hello? Mozzie? Mozzie, are you there?",_ Peter said, eagerly waiting for a response.

He repeated Mozzie's name a couple of times and checked the duration of the call – it had been about 18 minutes since he had last heard any words from Mozzie.

* * *

As soon as Neal got to the end of the house and ran in the direction away from there, everything became a dark mess of plants, trees, stones and other things he couldn't see. The moon had been out earlier, but it was gone at the moment, and with no light at all Neal had no chance of knowing where he was going. He only knew that the house was behind him and he was trying to get as far away from that as possible. He could hear the men clearly, not far behind, and once in a while he almost got caught by one of the beams from the flashlights. He almost stumbled a couple of times. He had to slow down! Crashing to the ground because he couldn't see shit would do him no good right now.

He stopped for a moment. He was still clutching the meat hammer in one hand and the knife in the other, and it was too dangerous. If he fell, he could end up stabbing himself. He stuffed the knife in the back of his pants, actually cutting through the fabric to make sure it would stay there. He decided to hold on to the hammer – just as a precaution – and a few minutes later that turned out to be a very good decision.

Neal was shuffling through some high grass, feeling his way along some bushes with thorns, probably black thorns, he thought, since he knew they usually grew places like these, when a beam of a flashlight suddenly fell upon him.

"_I GOT HIM!",_ the guy yelled. _"He's over here!"_

Neal jumped up, ready to run, but his t-shirt got stuck in the bushes. He was desperately trying to free himself, when he turned around and saw the guy coming straight at him. At the same time as Neal pulled away from the thorns, ripping his t-shirt, he swung his arm with the hammer aiming for the guy. He hit the hand with the flashlight which flew several feet away, and his aim had apparently been perfect, since the guy didn't even try to hold back the scream that left his mouth when the hammer collided with his hand.

The abrupt attack from Neal completely caught the man off guard. This was enough for Neal to take off in another direction, away from the now loudly cursing guy. He hadn't even had time to register who of their captors it was. Instead he was deeply focused on trying to see where he was running. He gave away too much noise, he thought. Where ever he ran, he kept stepping on branches and dead leaves, breaking and crushing everything beneath his feet, and the noise sounded awfully loud in Neal's ears.

At one point the moon came out again, and Neal paused close to a tree, trying to get a view of his surroundings.

"_Neal! Hey!",_ a whispering voice sounded from somewhere close by.

"_Mozz?",_ Neal quickly scanned the area in the direction of the voice.

He noticed a brief glimpse of a mobile display and ran in that direction, while keeping an eye over his shoulder, watching for any signs of their captors or the flashlights. He could hear them, but he couldn't see them. If Neal felt he had been making a loud escape it was nothing compared to their captors. They definitely didn't try to be quiet. Good. That gave Neal and Mozzie an advantage.

He reached a tangle of roots.

"_Mozz?",_ he whispered.

In the same second someone grabbed his left arm and roughly pulled Neal down. He almost stumbled, wincing a bit when his foot scraped over the edge of a root. Mozzie shoved the phone in the hands of Neal and almost inaudibly said:

"_The Suit's on the phone!"_

Neal let the hammer fall the ground and grabbed the phone, held it to his ear, and quietly said:

"_Peter, are you there?"_

He couldn't hear much. It sounded like someone said "oz", but the reception was really bad, and after a few more tries of getting through to Peter, Neal gave up. He kept the phone to his ear, though, just in case, but instead he directed his attention to Mozz.

"_Are you okay?",_ he asked his friend.

"_Yeah, Neal – I'm okay. You?"_

Mozzie sounded almost breathless. Neal figured it was the adrenaline. He felt the same way. Okay, he had been running, too, but still. The adrenaline was definitely flowing through his system.

"_I'm fine",_ he said.

"_What's the plan?",_ Mozzie asked.

"_We get away from here!",_ Neal stated the obvious.

"_Yeah, well... Even though that brilliant mind of yours usually works fast, I'm already ahead of you on that point",_ Mozzie said and pointed at the phone in Neal's hand.

"_Do we wait for the cavalry to show up?"_

Neal shook his head.

"_We are too far away for that. James and his goons will find us long before that if we stay here. We have to split! If they catch us together, we're screwed."_

Mozzie hushed at Neal and pulled him further down. A few seconds later the headlights from the car swept above them, and the car was slowly approaching their hiding place.

Neal whispered to Mozzie:

"_Whoever James has made a deal with is coming at 9 am."_

Neal looked at the phone shielding the light from the display with his hand.

"_It's 4:50 now. That's 4 more hours, and we don't know when...", he paused, "or if... Peter and the others will find us."_

The car drove by slowly not too far away, and they both ducked down, keeping quiet. They could still hear yells and other sounds from the men looking for them somewhere further away, but as long as they didn't appear to be directly approaching their hiding place, Neal felt secure enough to continue the conversation.

"_I say we keep moving towards the main road, but on each side of this dirt road. We didn't drive on this one that long, so it can't be far",_ Neal said.

"_I think there's a ditch running along the road",_ Mozzie added. _"I'll follow that one, but Neal..."._ He hesitated.

"_What?",_ Neal inquired.

"_I agree we can't stay together, but we also cannot be far from each other. We don't want to get lost in the woods. We have no idea where we are, what's in there."_

"_Don't get paranoid, Mozz!",_ Neal smirked at his friend.

"_I'm not. I'm thinking logical here",_ Mozzie argued.

"_I know what you mean",_ Neal calmly said, _"and you're right! We stick together, yet we don't stick together."_

"_Who gets the phone?",_ Mozzie asked.

Neal chanced a look at the display. The call was still on, but the battery was running low. He brought it back to his ear.

"_Peter, are you there? Can you hear me? Peter?"_

* * *

"_Peter?"_

"_Neal?!",_ Peter said loudly and grabbed the phone, holding it closer, but still on speaker for Jones to listen along.

"_... orest... don't know...",_ was what they heard. Both Peter and Jones strained their ears.

"_...hind this... ames... nine...",_ it was definitely Neal trying to tell them something.

When he quieted for a moment, Peter quickly, almost yelling, told him to keep the line open, that they were tracking the call, but they needed more time.

"_... battery...",_ was the next word they managed to decipher from Neal through the crackling connection.

Peter grimaced and swept his hand across his face. No, not now! They didn't have an exact location yet.

"_... hurry!",_ was the last word they got from Neal, before the call was ended.

Peter sighed deeply, a little frustrated. At the same time Diana entered the room.

"_What have you got?",_ she asked.

"_We just lost the connection",_ Jones said and explained what they had managed to gather from the phone call.

A couple of other agents were coming into the office thanks to Diana, who had called in their colleagues while spending her time waiting for the nanny. Peter summoned them all to the conference room. He was happy to see how each and everyone of them seemed to be just as eagerly ready for a break-through as he was.

After a brief meeting, in which they had discussed the conversation with Neal and Mozzie, they all set to do various tasks.

Some were following up on the tracking. Some set to look for what was in the area they had already narrowed it down to, and others started looking for traces of James.

Neal had said "nine", which could mean several things. Road number 9, a part of an address, 9 bad guys, 9 o'clock... They had to look for anything and everything with a 9, but if Neal had referred to the time it could be something happening at 9 this morning. Peter looked at his watch. That gave them less than 4 hours.

He called up Missing Persons and gave an update on the latest development. They had been working on the surveillance during the night, and they had a lead on a van which had actually been going in the same direction, up north, but they had lost it when it left the city. They had, however, been able to get a license plate, but they had turned out to have been stolen from another car.

Peter decided that he better call the Marshal's Office, too, and he tried to sound as authoritative as possible when he quickly informed them that they now had proof that Neal had been kidnapped and was not an escapee. Okay, to be honest they didn't have real proof right now, but the phone call from Mozzie and Neal was good enough for Peter. He certainly knew that Mozzie turning to the FBI was enough proof that they were really in trouble. He thought back to the day that Neal and he had dragged Mozzie into the office under the threat of him being arrested if he didn't comply. Yup, Mozzie and Neal were most definitely in trouble!

When Peter disconnected the call to the Marshal's he noticed a text message from Elizabeth. She would call off the moving van and wouldn't leave for D.C. until she knew that Neal and Mozzie were safe.

Peter texted her back, only three words: "Love you, hon!"

"Love you, too. Go find them, Peter.", El wrote back a few seconds later. I'm working on it, he thought, and I will.

Jones knocked on the door to Peter's office, and Peter put his phone down on the desk to focus on the job. They had a lot of work to do, and they had to find Neal... his friend... and Mozzie as quickly as possible. Agents from Missing Person's would be joining them in a few minutes, and for once Peter was happy to take advantage of their experience in cases like this one. Peter was good at finding forgeries – and Neal, which in this case was a major advantage – but he did need the skills of the trained agents from the other division.

Jones handed him some papers and they set to work.

* * *

Neal disconnected the call.

"_What are you doing?",_ Mozzie asked. _"We should've kept the line open!"_

Neal shook his head.

"_It's better we save the battery. They can still trace it."_

He started texting, writing a brief summary of what he had been trying to say on the phone. They were in a forest area far from the city, James was involved, Neal was part of a bargain, the names that Neal had caught during the commotion earlier, and finally that something was going down at 9 am. He paused for a moment, took a deep breath and then finished the text message with a simple command: "Find us!"

Before he pushed the send button, Mozzie grabbed Neal's arm with the words _"Oh-oh..." _ and pointed over Neal's shoulder.

Neal looked up and realized that their captors had closed in on them. At least two flashlights were quickly approaching their hiding place, and the voices became louder. One was obviously following the ditch, one was on the road, and soon Neal and Mozzie would be caught right between the two of them.

The light from one of the flashlights hit the ground not far from Neal's feet, sliding close by. He quickly pushed the send button on the phone, not knowing if the message went through, turned off the display, and pushed the phone under some roots. Then he hurriedly shoveled some leaves upon it.

He grabbed Mozzie by the shoulders, tried to focus on his face in the dim light from the moon. The flashlight beam coming from the man walking down the road swept by inches from them.

"_Run!",_ Neal ordered in what could best be described as a yelling whisper. And they did!

* * *

**TBC...**


	15. Chapter 15

**Finally, I have a new chapter for you all. Sorry about the long wait (again), but you can all blame it on USA Network for not yet having changed their minds regarding the future of White Collar. Keep fighting everyone! WhiteCollarClosure .TV (leave out the space) for more info.**

**And now on to some angst... lots of angst ;-)**

**WARNINGS: Language and a little whump**

* * *

Mozzie almost scrambled forward, losing his footing a couple of times, but managed to keep moving. He ran from tree to tree, jumping or climbing over roots, ducking under branches. He had quickly decided to stay away from the ditch, he'd be way too exposed down there.

He could hear yelling behind him, people running, and though he knew that Neal must be somewhere to his right, probably a little ahead of Mozzie, he couldn't see him or point out exactly where he would be.

A few times he was almost caught by the lights, but Mozzie kept running. There was no time for strategic thinking, at this moment it was all about creating space between him and the captors.

He panted. He was so not in shape for running like this, and definitely not in the middle of something, Mozzie thought of as a jungle. Yeah, okay... He knew it was nothing like that, but he was kind of sure that people weren't created to run such places. Were people created to run at all? He doubted it...

After what felt like an eternity of running - but was more like only 10 minutes - Mozzie was almost out of breath. He felt a stitch forming in his right side. He looked behind him and saw no one, but he could still hear them. He bent over for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. He clutched his hand to his right side, tried stretching. Yes, definitely in no shape.

Suddenly Mozzie heard someone getting closer. Someone who was most certainly not Neal.

"_I'm gonna get ya, you little shit head!",_ a guy yelled. _"I saw you. You won't get away!"_

Mozzie hurriedly looked around. The dim light from the moon didn't give him much to work with, but after a few seconds he crouched down behind the nearest tree. Think Mozz, think, he thought. Climbing a tree could be an option. Mozzie turned his head upwards, looking at the tree behind him. No. He was no monkey, but he did have a monkey on his back. And very soon that would be a huge monkey, a gorilla maybe even!

The guy chasing him was close. Mozzie could see the lights searching the ground nearby. He pressed his back to the tree, and a few seconds later he could see the shape of a man half walking, half running, past the tree where Mozzie was hiding. He held his breath. Didn't move. He followed the guy's movements closely as he stopped about 60 feet from Mozzie's hiding place. To Mozzie it was obvious that the guy had realized that he could no longer hear Mozzie running in front of him.

The light from the flashlight swept across the ground, at the trees in front of Mozzie, towards the ditch on the right side. Slowly. Searching. The man turned to the left, slightly moving a bit forward. The light kept searching for movement, and Mozzie stayed still. A noise coming from somewhere close to the dirt road made the man turn around quickly. The flashlight pointed in the direction of the sound.  
_  
"It's me, Greg! You see them?",_ another voice sounded.

The man close to Mozzie responded:

"_The little one. He's here. He was just here. Can't be far!"_

"_Oh, you're right on that one!",_ a breathless voice sounded next to Mozzie, as he felt himself caught in the light as a dear caught in the headlights of a car on a dark road.

* * *

As soon as Neal had launched himself into motion he quickly headed towards the dirt road. A few seconds of scanning in both directions told him to take the chance of crossing the open road, heading towards whatever vegetation was on the other side.

It was more like a forest with a mixture of larger trees and smaller ones in between. No grass, and the ground was rough to his bare feet. He had to go uphill to get away from the road, but it also gave him a better visual the few times he could see through trees and branches towards the road. He clearly saw two flashlights not that far behind, one on the road, one where he and Mozzie had been just a few minutes earlier.

A little further behind he saw the headlights of the car approaching again, slowly, with someone in the passenger seat having a flashlight, too, searching along the road.

Neal felt comfortable that they hadn't seen him cross the road, and he stopped for a moment checking out his surroundings. The light from the moon didn't really reach down through the leaves and the treetops. He debated whether to move further into the forest, but quickly decided it would be too dangerous. He wouldn't be able to see anything at all, and he would risk getting too far away from the road.

He started moving forwards again, not really running, because every step was like walking on broken glass. What he wouldn't give for a pair of shoes right now! He stopped regularly to keep an eye on the surroundings. Whatever he did, tripping and tumbling downhill would be the worst thing to do, so better move carefully, as long as he didn't have any people directly behind him.

A few minutes later Neal noticed the car driving by slowly. He threw himself to the ground and stayed still. When he dared looking up, he chanced a look downwards to the road. He saw the silhouette of one of the men on the dirt road, apparently having stopped. The taillights from the car were slowly moving away in the opposite direction.

Neal could hear the men talking, but he wasn't able to decipher everything. The man on the road disappeared in between the trees, but Neal could still catch glimpses of the flashlight once in a while. He tried to figure out how far he was from the place he and Mozzie had been hiding. How far would Mozzie be by now? Even though Neal had crossed the road and had to run a little uphill, he was sure he would be ahead of Mozzie. Mozzie didn't have the same speed as Neal, but Mozzie had shoes!

Neal shivered. Laying on the ground in a forest in the middle of the night, or very early morning as it was by now, wearing only a t-shirt and sweat pants, he could suddenly feel the chilly weather now that he wasn't running around. Most of the adrenaline rush had worn off, too, and even though he could still feel his heart beating heavily, he also slowly became more aware of how exhausted he felt.

His attention was caught by the car coming back. This time a little faster. Too fast for someone being on the lookout for fugitives, Neal thought, a little puzzled. The car stopped pretty much in front of Neal's hiding space at the same time as the lights from two flashlights came through the trees on the other side of the road.

What Neal saw next made his heart drop. Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!

* * *

Mozzie was hoisted to his feet with T having a firm grip on his arm. Greg quickly approached and was about to say something when T stopped him.

"_Call the boss, tell'em we got one!"_

T shook Mozzie like he was a rag doll. Well, no wonder actually, Mozzie thought, because he seemed like twice Mozzie's size.

"_Where's your buddy?",_ he asked.

"_What buddy?",_ Mozzie feigned surprise.

"_Yeah, boss. We got the little one. He won't say where the other one is"._ Greg listened to the other end of the phone.  
_  
"If that's James on the phone, tell him that even if I DID know where Neal was right now - which I obviously don't - I would never rattle on him. I'm no coward like James!",_ Mozzie stated firmly.

Greg just shot him a quick glance, then turned his back to Mozzie.

"_Yes, got it. We'll meet ya there!",_ Greg said and disconnected the call. He turned towards T.

"_Gonna come back. We just bring him to the road. They'll be right there",_ he said.

"_Come on!",_ T growled and pulled Mozzie in the direction of the road.

* * *

With the lights from the car it was easier for Neal to see what was going on. James and the man with the cowboy boots – Sean, he remembered – got out of the car, as the other two men came through the trees having Mozzie between them. Sean opened one of the back doors, grabbed something which Neal suspected were ties of some kind, because soon Mozzie's hands were pulled behind his back.

"_You are the worst and most rude host, I've ever met!"_

Neal smiled when he heard Mozzie speaking clearly – and a little louder than necessary considering James being only a few feet away from him. The message was clearly meant for Neal in case he was anywhere nearby. Which he was of course. On one hand he wished he wasn't, because he had a hard time holding himself back and not running to Mozzie's rescue right away. On the other he was glad that he was able to keep an eye on things.

He saw James walking up to Mozzie, saying something that Neal couldn't hear.  
_"HA!",_ Mozzie almost yelled. _"In your dreams, traitor! Neal got away a long time ago."_

James signaled to his men. They brought Mozzie to the car and roughly shoved him in to the backseat. T stuck his head in after him, and from the front seat Sean was doing something, too. Neal couldn't quite see, but he figured they were somehow securing Mozzie in the back of the car. Neal let his forehead rest on the ground and took a deep breath. What would be the best thing to do? He could crawl backwards, get away from the hill and then continue towards the road. When he got there, he might have a better chance of finding out where they were, maybe he could flag down a passing car and call Peter with more information. But what if there was no traffic on the main road this early? He could find a hiding place and wait for the FBI to show up. That could take hours.

He could also circle around and head back to the house, try to get to the van as was his first intention. If their captors brought Mozzie back to the house, he might even be able to free his friend first. Would they even consider that Neal would return to the house after having escaped?

Neal was abruptly pulled out of his own thoughts when he heard the well-known, angry, voice of his fa... James.

"_NEAL!"_

Neal lifted his head slightly to look down at James. A few seconds went by in absolute silence.

"_NEAL! Where ever you are, you get your ass moving and get back here. NOW!",_ James yelled.

"_Let's keep searching for him",_ T said, grabbed a flashlight and was about to start down the road.

"_No, wait!",_ James said.

"_Neal",_ James went at it again. _"You know I don't need Mozzie for this". _

He raised his voice a little more.

"_Don't make me do something, YOU are gonna regret!",_ he continued.

Neal swallowed. James wouldn't hurt Mozzie without reason. He wasn't evil per se. Mozzie had helped James hiding in a safe house, and James knew Mozzie. They had worked together in finding the evidence box.

_"Pull him out",_ Neal heard James giving orders. _"If he's nearby, he won't let his little friend get hurt."_

T and Greg pulled Mozzie out of the car, and now Neal could clearly see that he had been bound on hands and feet. Mozzie cursed at his captors.

"_You might as well let me go, if you don't need me. I told you already. Neal is gone. He got away!"_

"_Shut up!",_ Sean snapped at Mozzie who was snaking around on the ground.

James walked to the rear end of the car, opened the trunk and pulled out some rope. Neal felt his heart beating even faster.

"_Bring him here",_ James ordered his goons, and two of them lifted Mozzie up between them and carried him behind the car.

Mozzie didn't make it easy for them, and Neal noticed that they almost dropped him at one point.

"_Stop struggling, you little shit!",_ T growled.

Neal saw James bend down, tie one end of the rope to the bumper. What the hell was he doing?

The other end was tied to Mozzie's feet, when Greg and T placed him on the ground.

No... Neal slowly shook his head.

"_What are you doing, boss?",_ Greg asked anxiously.

"_We are gonna drag him",_ James answered dryly, but still loud enough for Neal to hear him.

"_We're gonna what?",_ Greg asked surprised.

T and Sean looked at each other. They were clearly as surprised as Greg and not comfortable at all with the entire situation. James stood up, looked around for a couple of seconds, before he yelled into the air again.

_"NEAL! I know you're out there. If you wanna see what happens to a body being dragged after a car, I suggest you stay where you are. Otherwise...",_ he paused and turned in another direction.  
_  
"You've got 1 minute to make yourself visible!"_ James told his goons to spread out and Greg to run a bit further down the road and pass on the message. A few seconds later Neal heard Sean's voice call out not that far away:

_"Show yourself, Neal, if you don't want us to hurt your friend!"_

Neal kept quiet and pressed himself to the ground even more.

Shortly after he heard Greg yell down the road.  
_  
"Neal, it's your last chance to save your friend!"_

Neal raised his head again and looked at Mozzie, lying there behind the car, trying to get free, wriggling and pulling at his bonds.

"_30 seconds, Neal!",_ James yelled and crouched down in front of Mozzie.

"_Call for him!",_ he said.

"_No way",_ Mozzie spat back.

Neal sensed a little nervousness in his voice, but Mozzie probably also knew, that James wouldn't go through with this. Neal heard one of the other men call out his name again, further away this time, passing on the message from James.

"_Last chance, Neal!",_ James said loudly facing in Neal's direction this time. Almost like he knew he was there.

"_10 seconds!",_ he added and turned towards Mozzie.

"_You really don't want him to save your sorry ass?",_ James asked.

"_How can he, when he is no longer here?"_ Mozzie really tried to sound brave, but Neal could hear the entire situation was starting to get to him.

"_You're gonna regret this... and so is Neal",_ James said.

"_You're not gonna do this",_ Mozzie stated.

"_Try me!",_ James simply said and walked towards the driver's side of the car.

_"Call for him",_ he added before he got in the car and turned on the engine.

Mozzie tried to swallow, but his mouth was as dry as a desert. James wouldn't do this. James is not a murderer... Oh, wait a second! Yes, he is. Mozzie saw the break lights turn off. He heard the sound of the engine change. The car door slammed shut.

"_Okay mon frère, this might be a good time for you to drop by after all... If you're here!",_ Mozzie said quickly, almost as it was all just one word. He heard the tires start to move on the gravel, felt the rope tighten...

Neal couldn't believe his own eyes. When the car actually started moving slowly, Neal's heart almost skipped a beat. He saw the rope tighten between Mozzie and the car, imagined James placing his foot on the speeder. The house wasn't far, but it was far enough away for Mozzie to be shred to pieces by the time James would park in the court yard.

Then the car started dragging Mozzie - who was struggling desperately by now – one feet, two feet, still slowly.

"_NEEEAAAAL!",_ Mozzie screamed, panic-stricken.

Neal shot up, almost tumbled down the hill.

"_MOOOZZ! STOOOP! NO! STOOOOOP!"_

He reached the car, started banging on the windows, frantically trying to grab hold on something to make the car stop. When Neal banged on the passenger side window, James stopped. Neal was panting. He had stopped banging on the windows, but he still had both hands resting on the car, one on the window, one on the frame. He was looking down on his feet, barely registering, trying to catch his breath. His heart was hammering like it would break through his rib cage any second.

Neal looked up, his eyes starting to focus again, and when they finally did he was staring into the blue, and very cold eyes, of his father. There was no emotion at all, no smile, no sorrow, nothing.

* * *

The sound of the car engine being turned on a few minutes earlier had alarmed Greg, T and Sean who had all hurried back in time to see Neal desperately trying to save his friend. They were all rather shocked that their boss had actually gone through with his threat, and for a few seconds they were all just standing still, passively watching, before they finally acted.

T untied the rope and half carried, half dragged an almost limp Mozzie to the side of the car. Not that Mozzie was unconscious or anything, he was simply too shook up to do anything, but getting his breathing under control.

Neal was still staring at James, frozen in place, when he felt two sets of hands roughly pulling him back, pushing him to the ground. He felt a knee in his back, and within seconds his hands were securely tied behind his back. Neal didn't struggle at all. He didn't say anything. But he did feel his eyes watering. Not because he was hurt. Not really because he was disappointed. Mostly because he felt disgusted by having James' blood running in his body.

* * *

**TBC...**


	16. Chapter 16

**Thank you very much for all your great reviews and nice words. Love ya'll! :-D And without further ado I bid you happy reading!**

**WARNINGS: A bit of language - and some might call it whump, some won't.**

* * *

Peter was anxious, but he tried to stay calm and in control, giving out orders, commanding his people to do this or do that. He looked at his watch. A little after 5 AM, and it was about 20 minutes since he had spoken to Neal on the phone. Peter was thankful of his team being ready to work this hard at this time of the day... morning... He wouldn't even call it day yet.

About 20 minutes – and a lot of theories about Neal's and Mozzie's abduction – later, Peter felt his phone buzz in his pockets. He figured it was El asking for an update. She would have to wait a bit, since they were all just about to go through the first list of possible suspects. All were people who had some kind of connection to James Bennet.  
Another 15 minutes later and Peter needed a break – and some coffee. He would've loved to down one of those fabulous ones that Neal usually brought back from a coffee run, but right now he would have to settle for the bureau "mud".

After having poured his coffee, Peter took out his phone to get back to El. But what he saw on the display wasn't El's number. He quickly read the message – and then he read it again, before springing into action.

"_Jones! Diana!",_ he yelled and ran up the stairs to the conference room.  
_  
"It's from Neal!",_ he said almost breathless and slid the phone across the table for Jones and Diana to read.  
_  
"9 AM!",_ Jones exclaimed and looked at his watch.

"_That's just a little more than 3 hours from now",_ Diana quickly added.

Peter quickly left the conference room again and standing on top of the stairs he summoned the entire team to the conference room right away. They finally had something useful to work with. Names, a time and an approximate area that they were still trying to narrow down even further. That part they would have to work on a LOT faster. And they would have to split up, getting a team ready and move up north as soon as possible, hoping for the people back in the office to have more information for them when they got closer to the area east of Beacon.

Going by car would take about one and a half hour. Peter immediately decided to call the higher-ups trying to get a helicopter. He would even ask Kimberly Rice from the Missing Persons' Department to demand the helicopter, too, if Peter couldn't convince his bosses. Diana was already getting in contact with local police and within a few minutes the entire White Collar division, as well as Missing Persons', were buzzing like busy bee hives on a hot summer day.

And Peter smiled when looking back at his phone... Just a tiny smile that he couldn't hold back after hours of frustrations, doubts and uncertainty. He nodded slightly.

"_We'll find you, Neal, we'll find you"_, he whispered. _"Trust me!"_

Only Diana heard him. She looked at Peter, put her hand on his arm and gave it a light squeeze telling Peter that he was right. They were going to find Neal and Mozzie – in time! It was going to be tight, but they could this. No matter what it would take, she promised herself.

* * *

Mozzie was starting to feel like he still had limbs connected to his body. His legs were shaking, but he no longer thought that his knees would buckle under him if T decided to let go of him. For once he was actually pleased that his captor had a pretty tight grip on him. But of course he didn't reveal that to anyone. That would be for Mozzie's thoughts only. Not even Neal needed to know that.

"_You okay?"_, Mozzie heard the faint voice of T behind him.

Mozzie nodded: _"Yeah... of course."_

He was slightly disappointed in himself that he was too shaken up to say something witty, and at the same time he sensed that T actually asked him with concern. That was a bit surprising, he thought. Mozzie straightened a bit and tried to appear way tougher than he actually felt like right now.

He caught a glimpse of Neal on the ground next to the car. For a brief moment they exchanged looks, but after a second Neal turned his head away. In that moment Mozzie's heart broke a little for his friend. Even though Mozzie had longed for knowing about his own parents for ages, he told himself that if his father was anything like James, just a tiny bit, he would never want to know about him. He would never want to face him. He knew how much Neal had wanted to learn about his father while growing up. How much he had hated him when he found out that James was a corrupt cop. And how much Neal had wished that James was actually a decent man, a man that he could call his father and have in his life when he finally found out who James really was.

But Mozzie also knew that from the moment James had left Neal's apartment after Pratt's death, Neal had wanted to bring his father to justice. Neal might be a criminal, but in Mozzie's eyes he was the only criminal with a heart. Even if he counted himself, too... However, sometimes that heart made decisions that brought Neal into trouble, and Mozzie deeply hoped that Neal would be able to disconnect his heart from his brain until the Feds had James in custody – otherwise... Mozzie could hardly think about it. He stared at the back of Neal's head and tried to convey a silent prayer to his friend.

"_Please, keep your head in the game, Neal. Don't put your life at stake to bring him down. He's not worth it... James is not worth it!"_

A moment later Neal was hoisted to his feet, and both he and Mozzie were roughly escorted back to the house.

* * *

"_What do we do with them, boss?",_ Sean asked when they were all back in the house.

James had his back turned to the rest of them, and he simply pointed to the dining table and said:

"_We won't let them out of our sight. Secure them and get us some breakfast!"_

James never turned around, and Neal was actually glad he didn't have to face him, but if looks could kill, James would've been stabbed in the back more than once within the last 30 seconds. It had taken a lot of strength from Neal to pull himself together during the walk back to the house. He had blinked the tears away from his eyes and decided to hide those feelings in a box somewhere far away, where nobody would find it. Then he turned his focus back to everything that went on, everything that James said and did, everything that he could put in a report later that could be used in taking his used-to-be-father down. Every possible piece of evidence was cataloged in Neal's mind.

Mozzie and Neal were pushed into chairs on each side of the table, feet tied to the chair legs, and hands tied behind the back of the chair. Neal felt Greg pulling the zip ties tight and he was briefly reminded of his battered wrists.

He finally had the chance to study Mozzie more carefully. He seemed to be okay after his scary experience not that long ago, but Neal still asked him:

"_Are you okay, Mozz?"_

Mozzie gave Neal a little smirk, nodding slightly, clearly indicating that he was back to his usual self.

"_You know I don't take brutality for more than a less intelligent person's way of trying to communicate with our inner neanderthal, Neal",_ he stated matter-of-factly.

"_And this was a modern neanderthal's way of courting? Good thing, since dragging you by your hair would require a little more...",_ Neal commented, but he was cut short by James.

"_Shut up! Both of you",_ James yelled and added in a more normal voice: _"Did any of you find the missing phone? Did you frisk them?"_

James was obviously frustrated by the development of the whole situation, and Neal studied his emotions and reactions closely. He had hardly looked in their direction, and Neal interpreted that as James losing a bit of control. That could be to their advantage, but it most certainly could cause problems, too.

"_We didn't",_ Sean said, and only a second later both Neal and Mozzie were patted down in a less than gentle way.

Of course their captors didn't find the phone, and Neal wondered if the battery had run out, and if Peter and the rest of the team were on their way. He nodded to himself, almost invisible. Yeah, they were. He was sure. Well, almost sure... He hoped so, anyway.

"_What did you do with the phone?",_ Sean asked looking from Mozzie to Neal and back again.

"_What phone",_ asked Mozzie in his typical "I don't know what you're talking about"-way.

"_Where's the fucking phone? Who did you call?",_ Sean continued a little louder.

"_Don't bother",_ James said and finally looked directly at Neal while he continued. _"You called Agent Burke, didn't you? And left the phone out there some where for them to track the signal?"_

Neal locked gaze with James and with hatred in his voice, he simply stated:

"_The FBI is on their way and they'll be here soon!"_

James studied Neal for a moment. Neal did nothing but stare back, making sure not to be the first one to look away.

"_No, they won't! It'll take them too long to track the signal, to find this exact place, to put together a team. It doesn't matter what they know, Neal, and you already know that. Remember, I used to be a cop. I know the process. Besides..."_

James looked at his watch and continued:

"_In about 3 hours we'll all be gone from here."_

"_You won't get away with this",_ Neal said still looking at James. _"No matter what happens at 9, Peter knows that you did this, he knows all your names. He'll hunt you down."_

"_Shut up, Neal... Peter might do a lot of things, but he doesn't do miracles. And you're gonna need one!",_ James said with an evil grin.

Then he turned away and headed for the kitchen.

"_Shut him up",_ he said to his people and waved his hand in the general direction of Neal and Mozzie. _"Shut them both up. I don't want to hear a peep from either of them."_

Neal watched James walk away, enjoying the little victory that James had been the first to break the gaze.

"_If you're so sure of this, why don't you just tell me who will be here at 9?",_ Neal quickly asked and added: _"Or are you afraid of exposing too much, knowing that I'll find a way to pass on the information to Peter?"_

James stopped in the doorway, turned around and carefully watched Neal and Mozzie for a few seconds. Neal was sitting with his back towards James, but even being bound he had managed to turn around enough to see his father's reaction. Mozzie had been quiet during the entire conversation, but James could see him enjoying Neal's way of taunting him.

T had stepped up next to Mozzie, ripped off a piece of duct tape and threw the rest of the roll to Greg, before he placed the tape over Mozzie's mouth. Of course Mozzie tried to turn his head away, but it was to no avail. Neal didn't see any of this, he just kept looking at James.

"_Tell me... Dad!",_ Neal said and he couldn't hide the sound of hate in his voice when saying the last word.

Meanwhile Greg had ripped off a piece of duct tape, too, and quickly silenced Neal before he said anything else. It was a struggle for Neal to keep watching his father with Greg's hands on him, but he managed and he counted that as another little victory.

"_Eyes, too",_ James said, still standing in the doorway. _"They don't need to talk to communicate! I know them!"_

No, you don't, Neal thought. You don't know me at all! Then he heard the sound of duct tape being unrolled and a few seconds later the sight of his father turning around and walking into the kitchen was taken from him, when Greg wrapped the tape around Neal's head, making sure that his eyes were well covered. Greg did a pretty good job, and soon Neal felt like being back in the dark room with no lights reaching his eyes at all, this time, though, still sensing people around him and being able to hear what was going on.

Neal bent his head a little, focusing on one of the senses he still had available and listened carefully to everything happening around him... Then it struck him. Shiiiit, it's gonna hurt when the tape comes off. Duct tape and hair? He winced at the thought. Not a good combination. Not good at all. And for a moment he kind of wished that he had a no-hair-haircut like Mozzie or Jones.

* * *

Mozzie had been watching the interaction between Neal and James with satisfaction. It seemed like his silent prayer about Neal and his feelings had been heard by his friend, but he made a note to himself to pull a those feelings later, when all this was over with. Neal would need that, though he probably wouldn't admit to it. Mozzie added to his note to bring some whiskey to that talk – counterfeit or real, whatever would make Neal talk.

The only thing Mozzie regretted before he was blindfolded was that he hadn't been able to agree on some way of communication with Neal, but they would solve that issue along the road. You didn't need neither your voice, nor your eyes to communicate. James might think he knew them, but he clearly didn't. And anyway... The Feds were on their way, and they would... Wait a second?! Was he, Mozzie, actually rooting for the Feds? What was wrong with him beginning to rely this much on the FBI every time it had something to do with James? Once again Mozzie had to accept that pigs could fly, and Hell must have frozen over completely by now.

* * *

**TBC... And oh... I forgot something in my top note: KEEP FIGHTING FOR MORE EPISODES!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Sorry about the delayed post of this chapter, but the site kept giving me errors.**

**When you've read this story I hope you will also take your time to join the campaign for more episodes of White Collar. Look for White Collar Closure on Twitter, Facebook and on the web .**

**WARNINGS: A little whump...**

* * *

The previous hour had been more or less organized chaos in the White Collar office with everyone being busy coordinating, planning, researching, and tracking down the signal from the cell phone. Peter had spent almost 10 minutes on the phone trying to convince his bosses that they needed a helicopter to get up north in time. Though he couldn't really say what exactly would be happening at 9 AM, he had finally succeeded – Neal's text message had definitely been a great help on that account - and in about half an hour he, Diana, Jones and a couple of other agents would be heading for Beacon. Peter had sent off another team by car, and they had left the FBI building just a few minutes ago.

Diana came to Peter's office.

_"__Boss, the local police force is ready to do whatever we ask them to, and they are looking into various possible places that Neal and Mozzie might be",_ she said.

"_Thanks, Di!"_ Peter appreciated her work.

"_Oh, and a S.W.A.T. team is getting ready, too",_ she added with a smile on her face.

"_Perfect!",_ Peter commented and continued: _"__I just hope we find the exact location in time. Any updates from Jones?"_

"_Not yet, I'm afraid",_ Diana said, and before leaving the office she turned around and said:

"_But we'll find them, Peter, we'll find them!"_

Peter picked up his phone and dialed Elizabeth's number to give her a brief update on the situation and to let her know that they were going to Beacon – or at least somewhere close by. He also needed to hear her voice, her reassurances that they would make it in time, find Neal and Mozzie and bring down the kidnappers. Of course he couldn't tell her all the details, but she was just as anxious as he was, and she deserved to know about their progress.

Shortly after the conversation with Elizabeth, Peter, Diana, and Jones set off to South Street Seaport and then off to Beacon. Unfortunately, they had a minor set back before they even got on board the helicopter, when Peter got a phone call from the office telling him that the signal from the mobile had died - most likely the battery had run out - and they still didn't have an exact location. They had, however, narrowed the area down a little more to approximately 8 square miles of which most was forest. The information was passed on to the local police in Beacon as well, and when Peter and the team got there, they would hopefully be able to narrow it down even further.

Peter thought to himself that if they couldn't narrow it down by tracking the signal, they would simply have to think outside the box for a solution. He and Neal were used to doing that... Throwing ideas at one another and bringing up new ways of thinking. It was a problem, though, that the one person who usually helped Peter's thoughts and ideas evolve to creative solutions was the one they needed to find. At least Peter felt comfortable that Neal and Mozzie were okay since they had been able to actually call the FBI. Maybe they had gotten away on their own and were now just hiding out and waiting for the team to come and get them. If that was the case, Peter was sure that it would be a matter of time, before Neal and Mozzie would manage to send up another flare – so to speak – to let the FBI know where they were.

* * *

While figuring out a way to communicate with Neal, Mozzie was also busy counting minutes. He needed to know how much time they had to work with, but his inner watch had a hard time keeping up. Mozzie was not just physically exhausted – he was also mentally on the edge of his limits. He had been awake for about 24 hours now. Usually, he could handle that, easily – he and Neal both – but he just wasn't used to being kidnapped, having to escape, running through a forest and being re-captured like that.

Add to that the few slaps he had received to the back of his head on the two occasions so far where he had tried communicating with Neal – first by clearing his throat in Morse code, and the second time by tapping his foot on the floor - he was simply drained.

One moment Mozzie was still counting minutes, 37 so far, the next he almost jerked awake. He had zoned out. He listened to the men around him, trying to figure out if they were still talking about the same things he had registered before dozing off. Nope... They were actually pretty quiet at the moment. They had definitely finished eating their breakfast, and the smell of bacon that had made Mozzie's stomach growl earlier, seemed to have left the room again. Mozzie deduced that either he had actually been asleep for a while or they had let in some fresh air. The room didn't seem cooler, though, so Mozzie doubted that was the reason, hence he had no idea now how much time had passed. He cursed himself for falling asleep, yet the thing he wanted the most right now – except of course from getting out of here – was to sleep. Maybe he needed to do so to clear his head, to gain his strength and be ready for the next round of captors versus prisoners.

Mozzie sighed inwardly and tried listening for any sounds coming from Neal. Nothing. Maybe Neal had reached the same conclusion. Mozzie gave in, relaxed his body as much as possible in the situation and actually ended up appreciating the ties holding him, because at least they would assure that he didn't fell off the chair in his sleep. Soon he nodded off.

* * *

Neal had smiled to himself every time Mozzie had tried communicating. He also winced on Mozzie's behalf when he heard the obvious sounds of slaps. For a few seconds he actually thought that the foot tapping had worked, because Mozzie had managed to spell two whole words, before he was caught in doing that.

Neal had been listening to all that had been said and done after they were blindfolded, but nothing had been particularly useful. Their captors had made breakfast, and whatever they talked about was of no importance. One time he had heard James call Sean to the kitchen, but the door had been closed so whatever that was about, Neal and Mozzie weren't supposed to hear it.

Mozzie had gone silent for a while. He had probably fallen asleep. Neal wished he could do the same, but his feet, his wrists and his shoulders were aching, and he didn't intend to just sit and wait for the time to hit 9 AM. He tried wriggling his hands a little, and with one finger he could reach the seat of the chair. He tried scratching with a nail, very briefly. It did make a faint sound, but not enough for anyone but Neal to hear. He figured that he could easily create a louder sound by scratching harder, but as of now he would hold back on that option. No need to reveal a possible way of communicating if Mozzie was asleep.

Instead he spent his time observing and counting minutes. He tried to let his body relax, just a little. Even though his mind was still racing, it wouldn't hurt if his body would recover a bit, and rest was probably the best solution. After almost an hour according to Neal's counting, everyone around him seemed to be either dosing off or at least doing quiet things on their own. He also felt quite sure that some of the men had left the room. No one had moved around for a while, no one said anything, and the only sound Neal had recognized during the last few minutes was someone turning pages in a book or something.

A couple of minutes later Neal heard one of the men get up and come closer. He pulled out the chair next to Neal and sat down. He didn't say anything and didn't do anything else. Neal didn't move. He pretended to be sleeping, breathing slowly.

_"__What are you doing, man?",_ a voice from across the room asked. Neal recognized it as the man from the park, Sean.

"_Just observing",_ Greg said next to him.

_"__Observing?",_ Sean asked puzzled.

_"__What did this guy do to piss off the boss enough for him to do this?"_ Greg continued: _"__I mean... they are family, father and son."_

When hearing these words, Neal couldn't hold back a little reaction. The words stung, and Greg noticed.

"_Oooh... I think, he's awake",_ Greg said.

"_He better be",_ Sean commented.

Neal felt a finger poking at his cheek. At first he didn't bother, but when Greg kept going, he finally moved his head away.

"_Yup, definitely awake! Daddy's boy was faking",_ Greg teased and kept poking at Neal until he couldn't move away any further.

Oh, stop that, Neal thought. Greg was like a little, annoying child trying to cause an outburst from the person he was teasing. After a few minutes with returning pokes on his cheek and nose, and Greg running a tickling finger down Neal's neck, Neal had a hard time trying not to react. If he hadn't been bound, he for sure would have lashed out at Greg, pulling his hand away or something worse. But Neal was stuck and he couldn't even turn his back to the guy. In the end Neal couldn't help himself, and he started squirming in the chair and pulling at his bonds, but all he got from Greg was laughing.

"_Cut it out, Greg",_ Sean said.

"_But this is fun, I've got nothing else to do and boss told us to keep him awake",_ Greg argued.

Neal heard Sean get up and approach them, and shortly after Greg's hand was caught mid-poking and Sean told him to stop or he would break his finger. Neal rejoiced.

Of course Neal should have known that Sean wasn't just interrupting Greg's teasing to make Neal more comfortable, which Neal realized the moment he felt his head being pulled back by the hair, and he heard Sean's firm voice:

"_And you... I'll be watching you. And if you show signs of falling asleep, I'll let Greg poke and prod at you, or I'll...",_ Sean paused, let Neal go and moved away a bit.

Neal could hear shuffling, like someone was looking for something, and then Sean's voice from the kitchen behind him:

"_Where's the taser?",_ he asked.

"_How the hell should I know?",_ Greg answered, and Neal heard him get up and join Sean in the kitchen.

Neal hastily cleared his throat, but he got no reaction from Mozzie. Come on, Mozz! This is our chance – they're not here, Neal pleaded in his mind, but he could hear the heavy breathing from Mozzie, clearly indicating that his friend was asleep.

It didn't take long, before both Sean and Greg came back.

"_But we frisked them both",_ he heard Greg say.

"_I know, but where else would it be?",_ Sean asked, and then Neal felt him grab a handful of his hair once again.

Neal was seriously getting tired of people messing with his hair, and he once again considered getting a buzz cut as soon as this was all over, because that would most definitely make it harder for people to pull at his hair in the future.

"_You took it, right?",_ Sean hissed. _"__You or your little friend over there! But I have other ways to keep you awake. I promise you that!"_

He let go of Neal's hair, and Neal breathed a sigh of relief. It must have been Mozzie who took the taser, which Neal appreciated very much. He had had enough close encounters with that evil tool.

After that little dispute, Greg and Sean let Neal be for a while, and everything fell quiet again. Neal had lost count on the minutes, and slowly he felt himself feeling more and more exhausted. He started to dose off, but he had hardly taken one step towards Dreamland, before he felt someone slapping him on the back behind his shoulders. At the same time he felt a stinging pain. Ouch!

"_You aren't sleeping, are you boy?",_ Sean gripped Neal's left shoulder and shook him slightly.

Neal could still feel a sting in the upper part of his back. What the hell was that? Not that it was unbearable, but it was definitely not pleasant either.

"_I asked you a question",_ Sean asked and moved his hand to Neal's back, and he felt the stinging more intensely.

_"__You weren't sleeping, right?",_ Sean repeated.

Neal shook his head. Even if had been half asleep, he was as awake as he could be right now. Sean continued patting Neal's back and shoulder, and whatever it was that stung, he made sure to touch it over and over.

"_Oh, I totally forgot about the pin in my hand when I .. caressed you",_ Sean said with an obvious smirk in his voice.

He pulled out the pin, and Neal winced a little. Sean put a finger over the spot and Neal felt a slight pressure.

"_Oh, good... pretty much no blood. No one will notice that. I bet you hardly noticed either, right?",_ he added and squeezed Neal's shoulder once more.

In his mind Neal cursed at Sean, and yet again he sent up a silent prayer for Peter to come find him... find them... soon. He just wanted this to be over with, and he would love for that to be before 9 AM. Right now he had no clue how far away 9 AM was, but he hoped that Peter was closer. Right, Neal... Comparing time with distance. Get your head in the game now, he told himself. He and Mozzie had been in trouble before, but it just seemed like this time was one of the more difficult ones to get out of without help. Usually, Neal would praise himself for being able to find his own way out of problems, but this time was different. He and Mozzie were both outnumbered, their captors knew a lot about them and their skills, and if they had underestimated Mozzie earlier, they definitely didn't do that now. To be honest, Neal couldn't see how they could get out of this on their own as the situation was at the moment. He would have to either wait for the situation to change... or make it change himself? Hmm...

An idea started to form in Neal's head. The only question was if Greg and Sean would buy it...

* * *

**TBC... And remember to keep fighting for White Collar!**


End file.
